


A lot like 'Us'

by percywinchester27



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Lawyers, F/M, Fluff and Angst, If you have specific triggers that you want to avoid, It's college and everyone is old enough to think for themselves, Law School AU, Lawyer Sam Winchester, Mutual Pining, No cheating, POV Multiple, Professor Sam Winchester, Slow Burn, There's a age gap of about 5 years but I am sure y'all can deal with it, no love triangles, please feel free to reach out to me I'll tell you, please note that I'm choosing not to warn, there are heavy spoilery warnings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-11
Updated: 2021-03-04
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:28:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 43
Words: 190,707
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25199269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/percywinchester27/pseuds/percywinchester27
Summary: Y/N Y/L/N is eager and honestly, still in awe that she managed to get herself an acceptance from Stanford Law School. On the face of it, her life seems as put together, mysterious and independent as one might hope for. On the insides, she carries the burden of past that haunts her till date. Seemingly, she’d left it all behind; that is until she sets foot in the class of the Law School’s youngest, most promising professor.
Relationships: Jo Harvelle/Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester/Reader, other possible side pairings that are spoilers
Comments: 315
Kudos: 119





	1. New beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: My lovely friend @deanssweetheart23.  
> This series means a lot me. Hope you guys like it. Happy reading, folks!

Finally the last of the boxes had been pushed up the five stories of stairs and into your living room. The guy from the movers quickly accepted the payment and disappeared before you could even utter “thanks.” You didn’t blame him. Anyone would be over eager to leave after hauling boxes up the stairs given that the lift randomly stopped working. 

You were just relieved that none of his men got stuck inside. That would have been awful. He complained about the sort of shitshows the rental buildings in the locality were, but all things considered, he had been pretty nice about the untimely disaster.

You closed the door behind and slid to the floor, glad that you didn’t have to smile for strangers anymore.

The lift might have been a shitshow, but the flat you were renting was really nice. It had two bedrooms, a living room and a small kitchenette. The flat had only one bathroom, but the grand balcony on the other side of the living room all but made up for it. You got off the floor and made your way towards the balcony. It overlooked a small meadow of sorts, and the entry wall beyond it was high and covered with thick vines. Right in the middle, was a small fountain in the shape of a mermaid, carved out of what must have been once pristine white marble. The mermaid had a mysterious look on her face, like she knew your secret, and was contemplating if it would fetch a good gossip. In her hand, she held a beautifully carved flask, from which the water fell into the basin below. 

It was like being in your own space, enclosed in this beautiful Caribbean meadow. That was until a voice called your attention.

“Hey!”

You looked sideways to find an Asian guy who couldn’t have been more than 20 waving at buy. You waved back awkwardly.

“So, I see you’ve met judgy Judy!”

“Who?”

He tilted his head towards the mermaid. “That’s judgy Judy.” he said, smiling. “If you happen to walk past her after 12 in the night, you are bestowed upon the judgiest of looks. And if you’re drunk…” he let out his breath in whoosh.

You laughed, then were surprised at the sound of it. You didn’t laugh this easily.

“My name’s Kevin,” the boy said. “Kevin Tran. Aren’t you the new girl renting 502? Meg?”

You shook your head. “I’m Y/N, actually. Meg won’t be here until Wednesday.”

You knew nothing about your roommate except that she loved her privacy. That was her only demand in the advert. That she was looking for someone who knew of basic hygiene and didn’t poke their nose in her business. You couldn’t argue with that.

He smiled, “So what brings you here, Y/N?”

Before you could answer, Kevin put out his hands excitedly. “Wait! let me guess. You’re a pastry chef, looking to start your own little bakery in this quaint little town.”

You rolled your eyes. That was about as far as he could get from why you were here. 

He caught on. “No… no… you’re an artist? Looking for inspiration?”

You pursed your lips, trying not to smile. “I’m actually starting the year at the Law school.”

Kevin whistled. “Law school, huh?” Then added, “Hey, what do I know? I’m just an engineer!”

You sized him up. He looked too young to be a professional.

He raised his hands up, “I know, I know what you’re thinking,” he said and you instantly felt guilty about judging anyone by their looks. Judgy Judy would be proud. 

“You’re thinking why would I live out of the city,” he said and you breathed a sigh of relief. “It’s ‘cause San Francisco is boring. Besides, I get to work from home a lot, and it’s an hours drive anyway.”

“Seems fair,” you said. He didn’t ask you why you weren’t staying in the official campus dorms. Maybe he had already done the mental math and figured out that the Law building was less than a ten minute walk from here. Besides, most of Stanford was a student town anyway. This building was closer to the college than even the Faculty residence.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kevin said genially, “Why don’t you join us for dinner? It’s just me and my roommate Jack. We can order some pizza and pop some beers. It’ll be cool. That way you don’t have to worry about cooking in the middle of all that unpacking.”

It was starting to get chilly outside, and you wrapped your arms around yourself, “I’m not much a drinker.”

“That’s fine,” he said, unfazed. “We have soda, if you want.”

You hesitated, “Thanks, Kevin, really. Maybe some other time.”

You waved at his somewhat confused face and stepped inside, closing the glass doors of the balcony behind you.

If Kevin thought you were weird, he’d get used to it like everyone in your life. He would get used to not talking, stealing glances and the fact that you weren’t exactly the sort of person people wanted around in fun times. He’d learn to ignore you like everyone else.

Most of the weekend was spent trying to put your room together. There really wasn’t much to your belongings except books and some clothes, which you arranged as neatly as you could. If the blaring music on your speakers disturbed Kevin and his roommate, neither of them complained. 

On Monday, you attended orientation lectures by a few alumni and the Dean. It all seemed like a dream to you. On Tuesday, they had a pre-law show you around in groups, the grand campus that was Stanford University. By the end, you were biased about the Law building being the best, maybe because you had dreamt of being here day and night for as long as you could remember. The Law school wasn’t a grand facade. It was functional and built in a pale beige sandstone which had weathered wonderfully over the years. The corridors were breezy and opened on to landscaped spill out spaces … and the building itself seemed to breathe through the tactfully placed fenestrations. 

The pre-law showing your group around the campus talked and talked and talked, while you followed her dumbfounded at the expanse of it all. One day, you’d get used to this, you knew that… but that day was nowhere near close. In fact, it had barely even registered that you had done it! That you had actually been accepted into Stanford and that you were going to be a lawyer!

Stanford had twenty libraries. Twenty. The place that you absolutely fell in love with was the Cecil H. Green library. The high, vaulted ceiling made you feel like you had stepped right into the Victorian era. The rows and rows of shelves absolutely boggled your mind. You could live here and it still wouldn’t be enough. 

You touched the richly colored mahogany table in the library and unwillingly, like it was the most inevitable thing in the world, you thought of _him_ . The look in his eyes when he talked about this very place. _“Y/N,” he’d say “You’re gonna fall in love with the smell of those books!”_

You immediately yanked your hand from the table, as if a current had passed through your body. The girl next to you, looked over. “Everything alright?” she asked kindly.

You nodded and moved away from the piece of furniture. You couldn’t think about him now, not here. So, you took a couple of deep breaths and closed your eyes, focussing on the things around you, the long shelves, the smooth tables. And it eased some, you could feel your chest constrict a little.

Meanwhile, the guide talked on.

“Water?” The girl next to you offered as you all stepped out of the library. You needed it, but that meant talking to her, and you weren’t sure you were up for that.

“C’mon, take it,” she insisted, “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

You took the bottle and splashed some water on your face, then took two gulps, feeling better immediately. The water tasted funny, but in a refreshing way.

You looked at what was inside.

The girl laughed. “It’s cucumber water,” she said. “I figured we’d be doing a lot of walking today and this is a saviour.”

“Thanks,” you said, actually looking at her properly. She had a slim build, with dark brown hair and eyes. Despite knowing that they would be walking a lot, she was dressed in a black pencil skirt and a flowy baby blue blouse, with matching heels. She was carrying all that effortlessly without breaking a sweat, while you were wearing your most worn pair of comfortable jeans, a sweater and sneakers. You did notice that she looked really pretty and when she smiled, it reached her eyes.

“Better?” She asked

“Much. Thank you.”

She put her hand forward. “I’m Madison. Madison Maxwell.”

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You shook her hand.

The others had already gone ahead while she had waited for you to catch your breath and drink water. You started walking together.

“So, excited for the classes to begin?” She asked peppily and you nodded.

You figured that Madison was the sort to fill every silence with words. After a while, she was going to be really disappointed in you for your lack of responses or initiating a conversation.

As you walked, Madison told you everything that she could about herself in the span of the couple minutes it took you to reach the rest of the group. She was born and brought up in Pasadena, to a lawyer dad and a socialite mom. “I feel like my mom was born as a socialite! Her first words were probably, ‘well, hullo, Dahling!”

You laughed, and encouraged by your reaction she continued. She was a pre-grad in sociology from USC, where she was voted the most likely to charm people with her smile (seemed fair). She had two older brothers both lawyers in their Dad’s _bigass_ firm, and they lived in this huge house overlooking a _hugeass_ swimmingpool. Her words, not yours.

The fact she was rich was pretty much in your face, from the gucci bottle filled with cucumber water to the prada shoes, but it wasn’t because she was pushing it… she was just used to it.

“What about you?” She asked as you reached the group. “Where are you from?”

“Kansas,” you said.

“And?” She coaxed good naturedly.

“And I did my pre-law from University in Texas.”

“That’s nice. What about your parents?”

You looked down. “They died in a car crash when I was little.”

“Oh no!” Madison gasped. She looked like she was about to tear up. 

“It’s okay,” you said quickly, offering her a smile. “I’ve made my peace with it.” It was true. You’d had twenty odd years to adjust to it. It was a way of life now.

Madison still gave you an apologetic smile, but thankfully, for the rest of the tour she didn’t talk much. It wasn’t that Madison wasn’t charming, but everyone charming usually expected the same from you… and you _weren’t._ Why pitch her up for disappointment?

“So, see you tomorrow, Y/N?” She asked, tentatively.

Poor girl, you thought. “See you,” you said. “It was nice meeting you, Madison.”

“Likewise,” she said brightly.

You watched her walk over to another group of girls, all dressed fancily,who squealed when they saw Madison. You shook your head, smiling to yourself that Madison had found some kindred spirits.

It didn’t explain why she had been so nice to you all day though. If she already had friends, she didn’t have to care about you, right?

It took you a while to figure out which was your exit. Roaming around in the campus as it was dark, was anxiety inducing. Yet, a voice in the back of your head kept telling you how the Oval was at the centre of the campus, and the Law building was just to the south east. You didn’t want to hear the voice, hell you didn’t even want to think about whom the voice belonged to, but slowly and surely it guided you back to the gate closest to your flat. Once you reached it, you made a run for it, not stopping till you were inside the tall building gate and into the meadow. You ran into Kevin.

“Y/N!” He said, “I didn’t see you there.” Next to him was another boy, dirty blonde hair and a smiling face. “This is Jack. Remember, I told you about him?”

Jack took one look at you and concern rippled across his face, “Hey, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, just tired,” you whispered.

Before any of them could say another word, you dashed up the stairs. 

“The lift is working again!” Kevin called after you, but you bolted into your room without halting. Once you were inside, you locked the door behind and you rolled into a ball on your unmade bed, finally letting the tears make their way. 

You knew this was coming, you knew it the moment you set foot in this town that it would remind you of him… the way he smiled, the way he ran his hand through his hair when he was nervous… the way you _loved_ him. Over the years you had trained yourself to snap out of it whenever your thoughts even inched towards him. You could shut it off and just stop thinking. It had taken years and years of practice, but finally you could lock him in the darkest part of your mind and not look at it. Not feel anything for him. In return, you barely felt anything at all. About anything, about anyone. 

In the long run, you preferred that bargain, though. The numbness.

And after spending so much time in it, the numbness felt homely. It cushioned you against the pain and the memories. So what if it cushioned you against feeling anything at all, too? At least this way you were functional. You could get through the day and be productive. Besides, who did you have to live for except yourself, anyway? So it was okay to just survive. To just feel enough for you to feel human. At one point even that had felt like an impossible feat.

You tried not to remember the days and nights wishing for the endless pain to end, wishing to just give up on everything, on life. At least now you didn’t feel that way. You had re-learned to aspire, to work hard. You didn’t feel hopeful anymore, but you had a goal set in mind and you were willing to work as hard as you could to fulfill it. 

Most of the time, you managed to block out all unwanted noise in your head and outside, and just concentrate on surviving. It will have to suffice till one day you could actually start living.

But once in a while the box cracked, like today, and all the memories came spinning out. In the library, somehow Madison’s prattling had kept you from spiralling. Now, there was no one to help. The thoughts simply overwhelmed you and you shut your ears, rolling into a smaller ball, as flashes of light from that night flared behind your closed eyes, the rain pouring down on you and all the blood. The thing you remembered most clearly was the cold. The skin-numbing, bone chilling cold as the water soaked through you.

You woke up to the blaring alarm. It was 7:15 in the morning.

“Shit!”

You jumped out of bed and then immediately slipped, landing on the floor with the thud. You cursed again as you got to your feet and rushed into the bathroom. Not only had you overslept, but last night you hadn’t even gone through your schedule of classes and lectures. The plan had been to wake up at 6, and go through the schedule once more, which you should have had studied last night, wear the perfect first day clothes that you should have picked out last night, and reach early to the classroom which you should have already figured out before 8 in the morning. 

At 8 in the morning, however, you were still trying to shimmy yourself into the only formal skirt you owned. You quickly threw on the first decent shirt that you could find and tied your hair in a ponytail, then made your way out of the apartment without breakfast. Your bag was threatening to spill out the laptop and notebook you carried as you all but ran across the street to get to the campus. 

By some extreme luck, you remembered the building perfectly. With a quick look through the schedule and the help of a very offended senior, you finally made your way to the class, completely out of breath by 8:20. Even though your hair was falling out of the ponytail, you were covered in sweat and your shoes were permanently damaged, you were miraculously ten minutes early. 

The classroom was huge and circular. It was stepped upwards, with desks curving around to focus downwards on the podium at centre, right underneath the big projecting screen mounted on the opposite wall. If you had entered the normal way, you would have probably entered through one of the two doors at the top of the class, but with your luck, you had obviously entered through the one door at the bottom, presumably which the faculty used. This way you had to climb up all the way to an empty spot with over a hundred people staring down at you in your hassled state. 

“Smooth,” a blonde guy from the third row muttered as you began climbing.

“Y/N! Hey, Y/N,” a voice called. “Over here!”

You saw Madison waving at you from the corner seat on one of the top rows. A few people were looking at where the commotion was coming from. To avoid more of it, you hurried towards her.

“Saved you a seat!” she said, moving her books from the seat next to her, to make space.

“Thank you,” you said gratefully. The three girls seated on the other side of her, gave you a curious look. The sort that is given to old cheese, wondering if it has gone stale.

“Girls,” Madison said, “This is Y/N. Y/N, these are Lacey, Meredith and Rebecca.” In your harrowed state, you only remembered that the brunette with long hair was Lacey.

“Aren’t you excited?” Madison asked, smelling like she had stepped straight out of a beautiful orchard, while you were sweating bullets.

“Mhmm,” you said. Madison went on to talk about how excited she was for this particular lecture, while you hurriedly set out your laptop, and readied your papers.

“He’s just so dreamy and hot,” Madison gushed and the other girls nodded in agreement. “I can’t believe we have him for the first lecture.”

“How are we supposed to concentrate?” One of the girls wailed.

Like _that_ was really a problem. 

“Civil Procedure,” you read from the time table, quickly going through the syllabus, not even looking at the professor’s name the girls were raving about. In your experience, the content mattered, not who was teaching it.

There was a sudden ruffling, and everyone quieted at once.

“Sorry, I’m a little late,” an apologetic voice said.

It was 8:32, you thought absentmindedly, as you looked up from the papers, that was hardly late. That voice felt like long forgotten music.

The professor was facing the board, printing “Civil Procedure.”

When he turned, the floor dropped from under your feet.

He wore a light grey suit, with a striped tie and a white button up shirt, and stood tall against the black board. His soft brown hair was long and silky, curling slightly at his collar, and even though from this far you couldn’t see the colour, his hazel eyes were warm and slightly abashed.

“My name’s Sam Winchester,” he said, the words each felt like a separate stab to your gut. “I'll be taking the Civil Procedure Module for this semester and the next. And, I’m usually never late… especially in the courtroom.”

Some laughter ran around the room. He gave it a minute acknowledging it with a smile, then opened his laptop, and a tech hurried over to set it up.

“While Paul here is helping me with the wires, let me introduce myself more fully,” he said, leaning against the table. “I did my pre-law from right here at Stanford, so I’m still your senior. You all better be respectful.” More laughter rang around. “Then, I went to Yale for law school. I’ve practiced in New York for about a year before moving to California, and practicing in LA for a few more. I currently I'm a junior partner at Acton Griswold in San Francisco. You guys heard of it?”

“Is he kidding?” Lacey whispered. “Who hasn’t heard of Acton Griswold?”

“You’re even paying attention to what he’s saying?,” said the girl next to Lacey. “I can’t get over the way he looks. What is he? 30? Hot damn!”

“I have to impress him,” Madison muttered, though her voice had become softer. “I need that internship at Acton Griswold.”

On the podium Paul was done setting up the laptop, and Sam walked over to it opening the presentation. He pulled out frame-less glasses from the box and slid them up his long pointed nose.

“Damn!” Lacey said again.

Your vision was tunneling in, and the room was spinning around you. Nothing made sense anymore. Not where you were, not what you were doing. Nothing mattered except the fact that he was standing there, right in front of you. 

You could hear the rustling of papers, and the tap-tap of fingers hitting keys. while you just sat there numbly, not knowing what to do, not caring what was happening, or how long it had been.

“Y/N? Y/N?” Madison was calling your name. “Are you okay? You look really clammy.”

Maybe she had been calling you for a while because a few people ahead of you turned to look, visibly annoyed. and it was in slow motion, almost reluctantly, as if to seek the source of disturbance that Sam’s eyes found you. 

A second passed and you could see them widen, then freeze in absolute shock. Unadulterated and profound shock. 

“I’m sorry, I need to go,” You muttered, then grabbed your laptop and your bag and rushed out of the door at the top, without caring about the papers you had spilt… and bolted across the corridor, without a sense of direction till you found yourself in a toilet cubicle, locked and in hysterics. 

This couldn’t be happening. Not now. Not ever. 

You had closed that chapter of your life, fled as far away as you could and yet, and yet he was right here. Sam was so close to you, how had your heart not known?

  
  



	2. Out of the bubble

It was, at least, a couple of hours before you found the courage to step out of the bathroom stall and walk out of the campus. With every turn you made, it felt that Sam might be there around the corner. On every bend, you were afraid that you might bump into him. But it wasn’t just that. Every colour looked brighter, every sound seemed sharper. It was as if the bubble of numbness that cocooned you had suddenly burst open and flung you in the middle of the world- raw and naked. Every sense felt more severe.

You were completely and utterly disoriented and exhausted when you turned the key of your apartment and entered. The inside was a brand new mess of boxes and pile ups. You flattened yourself against the wall.

“Hey!”

You looked around the box to see a brunette in all black sitting cross legged on the floor with a vicious cutter in her hand.

She saw that your gaze had landed on the cutter and waved it around. “This is just for the boxes,”

Meg.

It had completely slipped your mind that your roommate was supposed to move in today.

You whispered a quick ‘hey’ without looking at her, and rushed to your room. Locking the door, you slid to the floor, wishing for the sharpness to go away, willing your safety bubble to come back. It did not. And the senses, the memories kept assaulting you over and over.

* * *

**13th July 2008**

“Happy average birthday, Y/N!” Jo squealed in your ears, and you flinched back.

“Happy average birthday to you, too. Also, don’t shout!” You said. “ Do you want to announce it to the whole bar? You’ll get me kicked out

“You’re 19!”

“Exactly!” You pointed out. “The legal drinking age in Kansas is 21.”

Joe rolled her eyes. “Seriously, Y/N? Anyone ever told you that you need to loosen the hell up? One beer isn’t going to hurt.”

You gave her a sly look. “You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Jo grinned back.

“Here!” She slid across a fake id. “I already got you the entry pass if anyone asks. But let’s just stick to beer, shall we? Don’t want you throwing up all over the place in case you can’t keep your liquid down.”

“What if Aunt El finds out?” You whispered.

Jo squinted at you. “Mom will not find out what she doesn’t need to find out. You shut up and I shut up. That’s all there is to it.”

Ellen, Jo’s mom had been your mom’s sister. You didn’t want to get in trouble with anyone here, especially since you were here just for a few weeks.

“You have that look on your face again,” Jo said. “The one where your eyebrows all scrunch up and you worry the hell out of that tiny little brain. I never know what you’re thinking Y/N!”

You smiled a little at her whiny tone. “There’s not much going on here anyway,” you said, pointing at your head.

She jingled the little frill on the tight, body hugging one piece she had put you in. “Maybe something will go on after tonight!”

“Hey,” you protested. “You’re the one who’s tango-ing with Dean Winchester… or whatever you two have going.”

“Dean Winchester is the one who wants to Tango with me!”

You rolled your eyes. “As if you’re not interested in him at all.”

She gave you a superior look. “He doesn’t need to know that. Who knows? Tonight he just might get lucky.”

You had been here for a little over a week, and were somewhat familiarised with the people of the town: Langdon Wheeler, the guy who sold old cars next to the fire depot; Sheriff Johnson and Old Rufus living outside the barn, but nothing had drawn you in like the story of the Winchesters. Ellen had told you about it over dinner on your second day living with them. John Winchester had been her friend. He and his wife had died in a house fire years ago. Their four year old boy, Dean, had barely ran out of the house with his 6 month old brother when the first floor blew apart, killing the couple. It was the tragedy of the town, repeated over and over on drunken nights in every bar. The boys had both lived with a friend of their father’s and his wife in Sioux Falls, Missouri before Dean was old enough to live by himself and move back here. Secretly, you had believed that it was good for the boys to have lived away from this gossip mongering town. You’d been here barely for a week and everyone was up Ellen’s nose asking for everything there was to know about you.

Besides, Dean Winchester had made a reputation as the town’s playboy since he’d arrived. Apparently, there were middle aged women knocking on his door every morning with Casseroles and he’d turned them all right back. You knew first hand how miffed women talked, so no wonder Dean was turned into the badboy overnight. It didn’t help that he was extremely handsome- you had seen him a couple of times with Jo- and obviously unachievable. Honestly, you didn’t blame Dean. If those women were gonna snoop into his business and make everyday a funeral for his parents, they got what they deserved.

Jo had put on a stoic face when you had voiced your opinion at the dinner table, leading you to assume she wasn’t a big fan of the man. It wasn’t until you were laying in bed next to her that she’d gone all out on an epic rant about how the town needed to treat those boys better! Dean was an honest man, who made his living by running the only good auto-body shop in three towns and being flirty wasn’t a capital offense. Snooping into other people’s business should have been though, according to her.

Jo had dozed off after a while, but you’d stayed up, looking at the cracks in the ceiling of her room, not thinking about Dean Winchester, but about that little boy, who was only 6 months old when a fire took away everything that he had, save one person. Sam Winchester was lucky that he had an older brother to look out for him. God knew, you had always wished for an older sibling even when your parents had been alive. But like Dean, you remembered what your mom looked like, you remembered the sound of your dad’s voice. Sam didn’t have that. It would have been awful growing up without the reassurance of those memories.

The next morning, you had asked Jo about Sam, and earned her sly smirk. “Getting into the story, aren’t you?” She’d said, but told you anyway. No one knew much about Sam except that he went to Stanford and then Yale to become a lawyer. He showed up during the summers but wasn’t seen out and about much. Though that was about to be changed because this had been his last year and he was coming back to Lawrence this weekend for good. Jo had seen him a couple of times at their diner where she helped Aunt El, but that was all she would tell you.

It was like some epic karma. A lawyer from an Ivy League? You didn’t care if it took hounding this poor unsuspecting dude, but you were going to get it out of him how he managed that? He clearly didn’t have influence or money.

After badgering Jo some more, she had agreed to let you tag along to Dean Winchester’s place when his brother got back.

“Hey!” Jo swooshed her hand past your face. “Earth to Y/N?”

“Sorry!” You said quickly.

She looked like she was praying for your awkward social skills. “I’m gonna get us some beers, and you are going to try to get lucky. Capeesh?”

“Capeesh.” Fat chance of that!

You watched her walk towards the bar, sashaying her hips. How did girls do that? How did girls do anything even remotely sexy for that matter?

Then there was you, dying to get out of this dress. It was off shoulder, and you were starting to feel hella cold. Jo or even Ellen for that matter didn’t have to know about your weird cold sensitivity. Should have brought along that sweater.

“You mind if I sit here?”

You looked up to see this really tall guy standing over you. It was a Friday, and the place was bustling full. There was no other place to sit, while you had three chairs empty right next to you. It would be rude to turn anyone around. Besides, when Jo came back, she’d sush away a stranger, anyway.

“Sure,” you smiled nervously.

He sat down, and you were left to gather your wits for a few moments. The boy was hot. There was literally no other way of saying it. He had long brown wavy hair that fell below his chin, and beautiful hazel eyes.

“Thanks,” he smiled, and dimples appeared at the side of his cheeks.

Speech. You had to actively remember that you had that ability so you could respond… even if it was just a noncommittal shrug.

Oh, what it must be like to be cool. You wanted to keep looking at him and that was exactly why you concentrated all your energy on looking anywhere but him.

After a while of total silence, he asked, “So you’re from around here?”

“Uhh… no,” you said, “I’m just staying at my aunt’s place for a bit.”

“Oh, hey! Happy birthday!” He said, holding up the little placard on the cupcake sitting in front of you.

“Thanks,” you replied, hugging yourself, not wanting to explain that it really wasn’t your birthday. It really was getting cold out here. You saw his eyes flicker towards your hands catching your elbows.

“Celebrating by yourself?” He asked, and you felt a little bad for him trying to make a conversation with you out of decency. He could have used the time to hit on a waitress who could have gotten him a seat by the bar… or more. The least you could do was tell him the truth.

“Actually, it’s not my birthday today. It’s in October and I’m here with my cousin whose birthday was in April. Since I’m just visiting for a few weeks, we decided to average it out and celebrate our combined birthday now. She’s here somewhere…” you said and found her in the shadiest corner of the bar, hands wrapped around someone in a leather jacket. Then, discreetly she pulled him towards the back exit with her.

Mr. Hazel eyes followed your stare and groaned. “Uhh they’re gonna be in there for a while.”

You wanted to bang your head against the table. Not that you begrudged Jo her alone time with Dean, but you really didn’t know anyone here.

“I’m sorry about that,” he said apologetically, running his hand through his hair. It looked so soft. You wanted to touch it. And his eyes were really kind. It made you a little mad that he was sympathetic about the fact that your cousin had ditched you on your combined birthday outing.

“My brother can be an idiot sometimes,” he shrugged, and you realised that he truly was apologising and his words weren’t judging at all. “I can keep you company till Jo gets back.”

Then it hit you.

“Wait! You’re Sam Winchester?” You blurted

He raised an eyebrow. “I can see that my reputation precedes me.” He laughed nervously and you immediately felt contrite. Way to make him feel spied upon.

“No, no,” you explained. “Jo told me about you, is all.”

“Something good I hope,” he mumbled, looking down.

Suddenly you could actually feel your heartbeat, and the blood rising to your cheeks. Here was the one person you had been wanting to meet and he had just walked into a bar and found you instead! Looking like that.

“So you’re Jo’s cousin?” He asked, clearly making the link that Ellen was your aunt. “How’re you liking Lawrence?”

“Not so much,” you answered honestly. “I’m tired of the pitying looks I keep getting.”

“Yeah, I can relate,” he said.

Of course he could. The bar was crowding up further and more than a few stray glances were making their way towards you. It made you uncomfortable.

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” Sam asked, then clarified realising how that sounded. “I mean there’s this park right outside. We could wait there till… you know…” he waved his fingers vaguely towards where Dean and Jo had disappeared, light blush creeping up his cheeks.

“Yes!” You said jumping out of the chair. The realisation hit you afresh, how short your skirt was. That’s it, you were never wearing Jo’s clothes again.

Sam stood back and let you pass before him in a true gentleman fashion. You tucked your hair behind your ear, walking ahead, and then out of the bar.

The cold air hit you hard in the face and your naked shoulders, making you shiver.

“Here,” Sam offered you his jacket. He had shirked out of it as he’d walked behind you. “Take this.”

Ordinarily, you’d never had accepted, but it was either that or freezing your fingers off.

“Thanks.” You reached for it shyly, pulling it on and rolling up the really long sleeves. The jacket was so big that it was just barely shorter than your dress. It was pleasantly warm and smelled wonderful.

You had the sudden, maddening urge to move closer to Sam. Of course, thanks to the tiny logical part of your brain that wasn’t short-circuiting, you did not act on it.

Now that he was walking next to you, you noticed what he was wearing- A dark flannel open over the well-worn brown t-shirt and jeans. They were about as ordinary as clothes went, yet he managed to make them look so good.

“Hey, can I ask you something,” he said hesitantly. “Why did you say you were tired of the pitying looks?”

You glanced at him and blurted the truth. “I’m the new attraction, I suppose. My parents died in a car crash when I was five and I’ve lived with my grandmother in a small town a hundred miles south of Topeka since. I really don’t have any other relatives except aunt Ellen and Jo.”

“I’m so sorry,” Sam said, sincerely. He was keeping up with your slow pace. “That sounds awful.”

You shook your head. “No, all things considered, I’ve had a good life. Grandma loves me, and she has always reminded me that I am important to her. I know of kids who’ve lived with a full family and felt neglected, like they were never needed.”

When Sam didn’t reply, you turned to see that he was regarding you thoughtfully. “That’s one way to look at it,” he said after a while.

“You would know.”

He shrugged, acknowledging the obvious- you knew about his childhood. You had already reached the park bench. It overlooked a lovely little pond with ducks resting on the fringes.

You huddled in the jacket, drawing all the warmth from it.

“So, you said, you were staying with Ellen just for a while?” He asked, turning to face you with his undivided attention, like it was somehow vital for him to know the answer to that. Meanwhile, you were having a hard time concentrating on the conversation when he was looking at you like that.

You trained your eyes on your fingers which rested in your lap. “Yeah, I’m hoping to hear from a few colleges.”

Sam perked up. “Really?”

You grinned up at him sheepishly. “I was actually hoping to run into you.”

He looked surprised at first, then his gaze turned skywards. “Well, will you look at that, my stars have finally aligned. This really is my night,” he said with a wink and you couldn’t help the giggle that escaped your lips.

His eyes softened.

“I’m hoping to get admitted into pre-law for the winter semester. I’m still applying to a few places. And you… well, you seem to have managed to do well for yourself.”

Sam laughed, but there was nothing conceited about it… if anything, he looked slightly embarrassed.

“C’mon,” you goaded, “What’s the secret to making it big?”

He narrowed his eyes, as if choosing his words. “I don’t know if there is a secret. My brother would tell you, I got in because I am the geekiest nerd to ever exist… and as lame as it sounds, he might actually be right.”

You laughed. This was the most that you had laughed in ages. It was just so easy to talk to him.

“You know, I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. For as long as I can remember.” It was the one thing you had wanted with a burning passion.

“And you will be,” he said, simply.

You rubbed your palms against each other for friction, to imbibe some more warmth. Sam’s fingers moved, like he was reaching out. Then he pulled back, as if he thought better of it.

“I know you must have crazy high school girls running after you all the time, but if it’s not too much, will you take a look at my application essays? I don’t know anyone who’s done this before- the whole college thing, I mean- so this would be great help.”

He licked his bottom lip, then gulped. “Of course. It’s the least I can do. You can come by the house anytime you want.” Then he made a big deal of looking behind his back. “I don’t see any crazy high school girls though.”

Laughter sounded behind you, and you immediately recognised Jo’s voice. She must’ve come looking for you.

Sam looked in the direction of the voices, then let out a nervous huff before reaching out for your hand. His palm was rough but also very warm. “Happy average birthday, Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m so very glad to have met you.”

* * *

There was a loud bang and you woke up with a start, your heart hammering out of your chest. You had fallen asleep on the floor right next to your door.

“Sorry!” A voice yelled from outside the door.

You looked around bewildered. Where were you? What was happening?

Oh, this was your new room at Stanford. One easy breath later, it all came crashing down. The class, Sam standing there on the podium, looking at you with shocked eyes.

It had all happened, really happened.

Your hand flew to your chest. You were simply incapable of comprehending this situation… everything was still sharper and clearer… and Sam was here.

There was a knock on the door. “Hey, you alright?”

“Yeah,” you called back. “Just tired.”

“Whatever,” Meg said, and you heard the sounds of footsteps walking away.

You dragged yourself to the bed and lay on it, wishing that you could just zone out, wishing that you could just go back to being numb. It did not happen.

You spent most of the night blankly staring into space, only falling asleep when the sun came up again. In fact, if you didn’t have to use the bathroom, you wouldn’t have left the bed at all, even on the day that followed.

By Friday evening, the emptiness was eating at your insides so much that you finally decided to dress up and step out of the room. The door to Meg’s room was closed. A small part of you wanted to knock on it and apologise for being so rude, but most of you just wanted to run away from not just yourself but from existence itself.

Stepping outside the apartment and into the meadow seemed to liven your senses in a good way, so you walked out onto the street. It wasn’t to clear your head, more like to fill it with something to think about that wasn’t Sam or the absolute horror you felt about going back to classes.

You had worked your ass off for the past several years, both to earn the money to move, and the LSAT score and scholarship that let you into Stanford, and now you were simply blowing all that off by not attending the classes. In fact each minute of Thursday and Friday had felt like a heavy stone of anxiety slowly lowering itself in your stomach… Each minute that you had missed the classes. However, the thought of facing Sam after what had happened, absolutely petrified you.

Somehow being on the street amidst people who didn’t know you or didn’t care, quieted the storm in your head enough to think things through. You had two options. First to go back to College, and pretend like Sam didn’t exist for you outside the persona of a professor, that he was nothing more than a person you saw each day. That seemed absolutely impossible.

Second option was to run away, far from all of this, far from Sam. Again.

You mulled over to two options again and again, roaming around aimlessly till you were back in front of the apartment gate. Sighing, you pushed it open and found yourself looking at a jolly sight.

Along the parapet of the fountain, sat Kevin with Jack and a couple others. They were laughing about something, in fact, Jack seemed in hysterics. You stopped in your tracks.

Kevin noticed you standing there.

“Hey, Y/N!”

“Hey,” you said, over conscious of the state of your appearance. Your clothes were faded and thanks to the humidity, your hair stuck to your face, greasy and rough at the same time.

“Cas,” Kevin said to the one guy you didn’t know, “This is Y/N!”

“Y/N, this is Castiel,” he added. “You, of course, know Pam.”

Pamela Barnes was the landlord, so you had met her before. What you didn’t know is that everyone just hung out in the evening with her. She lived in one of the ground floor apartments. Easy to keep a watch on everyone like that. From what you knew, she was a bartender in one of the more popular bars in the town.

You said your hellos shyly. The awkward interaction was thankfully interrupted by a pizzaman.

“Oh, wonderful,” Jack exclaimed. “Right on time.”

“I’ll see you guys then,” you said, slowly backing away.

“Hey, where do you think you’re going?” Kevin exclaimed. “The pizza is for everyone.”

“Oh, I can’t possibly intrude.”

“You’re not intruding,” Pam said. “It’s our ‘welcome to the apartment’ free pizza ritual.”

“What?” Cas gave her a look. “I didn’t get one!”

Pam kicked him in the shin, and it made you smile. “Of course you did. I just decided to keep it for myself.”

“C’mon, in,” she said, turning towards her flat.

You considered making a run for it, but didn’t see how it would work. Kevin kept you company, prattling on about everyone. Pam had two apartments to herself on the ground floor. With all the walls knocked down, it made one cool living room and three spacious bedrooms. It was a dream house of sorts. The third apartment on the ground floor was empty.

The first and second floor were either university kids or people who worked in the town. There was one married couple who was grossly in love with each other and did not interact with anyone else. And then the three apartments on the third floor. Kevin and Jack Kline, who was majoring in literature from University, lived in the first apartment. Then you and Meg in the flat next to them and opposite to you, lived Castiel Novak, Third year of Med school.

“So, Y/N, how’s Stanford treating you?”

Like a punching bag.

“It’s been good for most part,” you said, tucking your hair behind your ear.

Maybe it was because you were in proper company for the first time in a week or because you hadn’t eaten anything in two days, but the pizza tasted good. The tang of the tomatoes was perfectly balanced by the gooeyness of the cheese.

An involuntary moan left you as you took in another bite and four pairs of eyes turned towards you. You could feel the blood rushing to your face.

“Now that’s how you enjoy pizza,” Jack said. “Y’all don’t know anything about enjoying food. Maybe Y/N could bring some culture to this place. You heathens need it!”

Everyone laughed at that. The knot in your chest loosened.

“Hey, Cas,” Pam called. “Grab that 6 pack on your way from the kitchen.”

“Sure!”

You took another tentative bite of the pizza. It really did taste great.

“Y/N?”

You looked up to see Pam holding a pint over you.

“Er- “

“Here,” Kevin said, handing you a can of coke. “Y/N isn’t much of a drinker.”

“Oh, cool!” nodded Jack. And just like that everyone was okay with it.

You reached out to take the can. “You remembered,” you said through a strangled voice.

Kevin brushed it off with a raise of his shoulders, like it was nothing. “Of course I remembered. We are all so glad that you joined us for dinner, Y/N!”

And he meant it. He really did.

You felt tears press the edges of your eyes. You didn’t know if Kevin noticed, but if he did, he didn’t show it and the conversation flowed around you.

So the second option was out. You couldn’t run away from this. You had yearned for seven years to finally be here, to feel little things, little joys like these… and there was so much more to experience.

That left you with only one alternative… facing Sam. Maybe, just maybe you could manage to live your life without him affecting you like that. Afterall, he was only your professor now, you weren’t expected to interact with him on any level. It was only a matter of two semesters.

“More pizza?” Cas asked kindly and you nodded.

That decided it for you. You were going to take your life in your hands and you were going to walk into that class on Monday morning and never look back.


	3. First day

Monday morning rose brighter than it had a right to be; to the point that the sun was stabbing you in the eyes. You had been over and over the plan in your head throughout the weekend. By now, you were absolutely sure that you had mapped every second of the day and nothing could go out of hand.

The plan went sideways almost as soon as it started.

You dropped your bag at the threshold of the lecture room with a loud crash. All of the last row turned to look at who was _that_ much of a klutz. You did not meet anyone’s eye as you took a seat at the very end of the top row. Maybe that would make you inconspicuous.

It did not.

“Y/N!”

Madison slid next to you on the bench, followed by her brood of friends. Lacey and the other two, whose names you didn’t remember.

“How are you, Sweetie?” Madison asked sympathetically. “You looked awfully ill when you left the other day. We were so worried about you! Weren’t we, Mer?”

Meredith- you remembered her name now- did not look worried in the least.

“What happened?” Madison asked.

“I was just really faint,” you answered automatically, having anticipated this. “I’m feeling much better now. Thank you so much.”

Madison looked relieved. “I’m so glad, Y/N. I wanted to check on you over the weekend, but I didn’t have your number or knew where you lived. You have to give me your number right away.”

You did, and she texted you immediately.

“Awesome!” she said. “Now you have my number, too.”

You tried to smile. “Hey, if it’s not too much, could you tell me what I missed in the two days?”

Madison became animated instantly. “Well, lets see. After you left, there was advanced legal writing by professor Mills, then Supreme Court Litigation by Professor Mcleod and Organisation and transactions law after that. Most of Friday was free except for another lecture by Professor Mills. I have the notes. Once you put your email id on the class database, I’ll forward mine to you.”

“That’s seriously more than I can ask from you,” you said, feeling small. 

She placed her hand on top of yours. “You’re not asking. I’m offering.”

“Thank you!” You said, looking down.

Madison huffed. “You thank me too much, Y/N! Besides, you really didn’t miss any of the fun.”

“What do you mean?”

“Professor Winchester didn’t show up either,” Lacey giggled. “Didn’t we turn up fifteen minutes early for his class on Thursday? And the man never came.”

Your stomach lurched, a feeling you hadn’t quite experienced in years had you feeling lightheaded. 

“Well, he didn’t completely disappear,” said the blonde. “He did turn up for the last half an hour of his lecture on Friday and outlined the syllabus of the semester.”

“He looked stiff and serious. Nothing like his first day here. And even that day he stormed off, remember?”

“Oh yeah,” Madison nodded. “Right after you left, Y/N. It was a bit weird.”

You swallowed nervously, your forehead already clammed up. What was it? Was it fear or worry that you felt for Sam? You had been so wrapped up in your chaos that you hadn’t stopped to consider about Sam, assuming that he must have grown passive and wouldn’t care about the past anymore.

Sam had looked warm and at ease with himself that day, happy even, while you had only survived all these years. You’d be lying to yourself, if you said that the image of Sam on the podium, smiling at the students hadn’t felt like a knife in your gut.

But if he had not turned up for classes either… did that mean….

There was noise at the front and you saw Sam on the podium. He looked every bit as dressed up and neat as he had on your first day, if not a bit more severe. 

He greeted the class curtly, and instantly jumped to the lesson. You tried not to stare, but it was hard to look away. It was harder still to keep looking. His features seemed more angular now, and he was definitely leaner than when you had first set your eyes on him. Today he was dressed in a dark grey suit and no tie, the button at his throat was undone.

He spoke for an hour about the merger of disputes and cases where it had benefited the original plaintiffs and not once did his eyes stray towards the corner of the class where you sat. It was as if he was deliberately avoiding that very portion of the classroom. He wasn’t genial today. A good teacher, just like he always had been, but absolutely formal. When the class ended, he retrieved the attendance sheet from a kid in the first row and exited the class.

“Well, that was quite intense,” whooshed Meredith. “Hadn’t pegged him for the serious sort.”

Blonde hair giggled at the double entendre, and you almost gagged. 

“He’s actually quite good,” Madison murmured, uncharacteristically serious. “He knows what he is talking about.”

Absentmindedly, you nodded. Not that you had paid much attention to the lecture, what with your heart struck in your throat.

The classes that followed weren’t as eventful as the morning and you were more than grateful about it. The other professors all seemed so knowledgeable and expert. You had enough on your mind by the time you left the university, your plate already full of assignments.

When you got home, Meg was sprawled on one of the two sofas that came with the house and were perched in the living room.

“Hey,” you said tentatively.

Meg raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised that you were initiating a conversation after a whole week of thoroughly avoiding her. 

“Hey,” she said. 

You placed your bad and laptop on the side table at the entrance and went to sit on the empty sofa. “I’m sorry about not greeting you earlier… I was going through some stuff.”

“Clearly,” she snorted.

The hurt must have shown in your eyes, because she straightened up into a sitting position.. “I’m not offended,” she said. “Locking myself in my room and avoiding human contact like it’s the fucking plague is my monthly PMS schedule. I’m not mad or anything.”

“Oh, alright,” you breathed out.

Meg looked amused. “Your face is like an open book,” she said. “If you keep that up, you’re going to be a terrible lawyer.”

You didn’t fight her on it. It was a problem… it always had been. Over the years mostly it had been a blank and your boss had commented on your excellent poker face… but clearly even the dumb expressive face was back with all the feelings.

“I don’t know what you’re studying,” you changed the topic.

“MS, Applied physics.”

“Damn. That sounds hard.”

Meg chuckled. “You really think that, don’t you? You look terrified.”

You rearranged your expression into what was just polite interest. Enough with Meg’s expert face reading class.

“You wanna grab dinner?” Meg asked.

“Sure,” you said. “What’re we doing?”

“I made some stir fry. I didn’t know if you’d be up for dinner, though.”

You felt terrible about skipping the meals and in turn her company over the past week. 

“No worries,” she said, getting up. “I’ll just toss some pasta and we’re good to go.”

“Hey, Meg?” You asked, “I see you’ve stocked up the pantry. It’s incredibly kind of you. I might drive to the supermarket tomorrow after classes, why don’t you let me know if there’s anything you want.”

She looked at you with some surprise and a hint of actual liking. “Sure. We can make a list over food.”

“Great,” you smiled.

The rest of the week passed without any more surprises, and you took your time to settle in… getting to know Stanford- both, the University and the town. You attended all lectures regularly and gave your hundred percent effort to every assignment.

In classes, you listened with utmost concentration… all except one. Civil Procedure wasn’t a lecture, it was slow seething torture. Watching Sam talk on the podium, interacting with students simply made it hard to breathe. The walls of the lecture room converged in on you while you gasped for air. On Sam’s part, he ignored you completely. It was as if you didn’t exist at all. Over the course of the week, his stiff, formal stance loosened and you could see more and more of the guy who had introduced himself on the first day. You didn’t know what you had been expecting from him? That one day he would suddenly look at you with hatred and throw you out of the class? That he’d lose his mind and yell at you? Ask you the questions that you didn’t want to answer?

But even for all that, he’d have to acknowledge your presence. Look at you. Somehow the ignoring and pretending that you didn’t exist was so, so much worse. It was killing you. Every second of the class, you fought your tears. However, you did not miss a single class. 

Apart from those two hours everyday, you were doing well, all things considered. On Thursday, you packed more food than just your lunch, and after classes, walked to the Green Library. It was just as breathtaking as it had been on the first day. You set out to find that one table that felt right. After a quarter of an hour of testing and teasing, you finally found a desk that looked oh so inviting. It wasn’t the one below the tall, arching windows, but rather a small desk niched between the bookshelves. It was perfect.

You unloaded your bag, and set to work with the assignments that had been set for the class by Professor Mills. You personally thought Jody Mills was a total badass. She took up cases that others were too scared to touch. Her assignments didn’t require you to reference too many books, so you could make yourself comfortable in the chair. Your mind wandered as the time passed. There were a lot of things to be thought through. For starters, if you had to afford living here, you needed a job. Your savings would last a couple of months at most. The expense of moving across the country then having to pay for the lease of the apartment had taken a massive toll on your bank account. By the time holiday season began, you’d be as broke as the china in your grandma’s old cabinet.

Earlier, you had put in an application at the Student’s employment centre for oncampus jobs. You weren’t hopeful, given the number of applications they received, but you sure meant to check in on them next week in hopes that something suitable might have come up.

It was past 8 in the evening when you finally wrapped your stuff up, somewhat satisfied with how your assignment had turned out. You lowkey congratulated yourself on finishing it a week before the deadline as you made your way back home, crashing the minute you found your bed.

* * *

**18th July 2008**

“Y/N! There’s someone here to see you!” Jo hollered from somewhere in the living room.

Thankfully the door to the room you were sharing with Jo was open.

“Coming!” You yelled back, wondering who could it possibly be. Maybe it was the postman with your grandma’s letter. She was a weird old lady who still loved writing handwritten letters. Gramps had been to the war and their love story had blossomed over letters sent across borders. Even though gramps had passed away many years ago, she still got that rosy look on her face whenever she talked of him. You wanted a love story like hers. Was it too much to ask for?

You made your way down the steps two at a time, excited for the letter. Maybe she had sent cookies along with it. Oh, how you loved her.

On the bottom step, you stopped. Sam Winchester was standing in the hallway, one hand balancing a lot of books, the other scratching the back of his neck, looking adorable in old jeans and an open button up over his t-shirt.

“Hey!” He said.

You were wearing a loose shirt without a bra over a pair of boy shorts, with hair falling over your shoulders. Needless to say, you were mortified. 

“Give me two minutes,” you muttered and rushed back upstairs. 

As you were pulling on a pair of leggings, it occurred to you how dumb the interaction had been. He was here to see you and neither had you invited him in nor asked him why he was here.

To add to your embarrassment, when you returned downstairs, he was still standing at the bottom of the stairs five minutes later, exactly where you had left him.

“Why’re you still standing here? Please come in!” You urged, scandalised that you had kept a guest waiting like that. Gran would have tutted so hard had she been here.

Sam followed you into the living room. Jo was lounging on the smaller sofa chain and you glared at her. She could have easily invited him in when she opened the door.

_But no! How else would Y/N suffer in life?_

Jo gave you the evil grin and waved to Sam. 

“Would you like something to drink?” You asked, not meeting his eyes.

“I’ll have coffee!” Jo ordered and you threw her the stink eye again. 

You gave Sam a chagrined look. “I’ll put the pot on the stove for her anyway. Do you want coffee?”

He looked like he was trying very hard to smile. “Black please. With half a spoon of sugar.”

You tried to calm your nerves as the pot boiled. Being a nervous wreck wasn’t going to help your case.

When you brought the two mugs of coffee outside, Sam was reading one of the books he had bought along and Jo was nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s Jo?” You asked, carefully placing the steaming mug before him on the table.

Sam shrugged. “She said she suddenly felt sleepy. And that you should drink her coffee because you both like it the same way.”

Oh, that sly girl.

“So, what brings you here?” You asked, taking a seat next to him on the sofa.

Sam smiled shyly. “You said you could use a second pair of eyes for the application.”

He had come all the way from wherever he stayed just to help you with the applications? 

“Really?” 

“Sure.” He tilted his head, the bangs on his forehead sliding to one side. He just had such beautiful hazel eyes. You have to avert your gaze so you wouldn’t just blatantly stare at him.

You excused yourself a second time and pulled out all your application stuff. Forms, copies of essays, documents and everything. It would be absolutely stupid to not make the most of this opportunity. 

Sam took his time with all of it, going through each paper carefully and you counted your breaths to keep away the anxiety. At least he wasn’t laughing at how ridiculous your applications were. That was something. When he was done, he slowly put the papers down and looked up at you.

“Where else have you applied?” He asked.

You told him.

“You didn’t think of applying to any major universities?”

You shook your head. “I didn’t think I had a chance… and I don’t even think I was cut out for those.”

Sam reached out to place his hand on top of yours. A tingling sensation went up your spine. “Y/N! This looks great. Your essays are top notch. You should apply to Ivy Leagues.”

“I’ve already missed deadlines for them… and there are some good universities on my list as well.”

“But you deserve better!” He insisted.

You shrugged. “I don’t have that sort of money, and before you say scholarships, I don’t have those types of recommendations either. I come from a small town. People who are born there, spend their whole lives in the same house. They are happy with what they have.”

“Are you happy with what you have?” He asked, the light from the setting sun hitting his face, illuminating those eyes so they looked like burning topaz.

“I’m happy,” you said, looking at your lap where his hand rested on yours. He seemed to have forgotten about it. “But I know I can do better… for myself and my Gran.”

You made the mistake of looking up then… into his eyes, and they were closer than you had expected them to be. As if, he had no control over it, his hand reached out to touch your hair, the fingertips caressing your cheek on their way there. Slowly, but surely, he drew your face towards his… and you went, willingly. His lips had barely grazed yours when there was a loud noise in the hallway.

You sprang apart. 

“Y/N!” It was Jo.

Ordinarily, you’d have flicked your tongue at her or something for interrupting like that. Afterall, she was the one who kept egging on you to get lucky, and the one time you had… that too with Sam frigging Winchester, she had to come barging into the room. Uhgg… Jo was going to get it.

But her face was completely white, and her hand, which was holding the phone, was shaking.

“Y/N,” she whispered again. Your neighbour called. It’s your grandma… she passed away last night. 

* * *

You woke up in a cold sweat to the sound of the blaring alarm.

Gran!

The worry felt so fresh, you had to remind yourself that it had been seven years since she had passed away. Grief was peculiar like that… even after years and years of feeling it, some days it just felt fresh and new. Sad memories opened up the box of more memories, not all of them sad. The thought of gran was always accompanied by a warm feeling and memory of sunlit kitchen, and freshly baked bread.

This… dream or whatever it was had triggered more than just that… you could almost feel the whisper of Sam’s lips on yours. You had suppressed it so long that the feeling was almost forgotten now and how it ached knowing that you would never feel it again. The raw, desperate part of you tried to cling on to that feeling, the memory of his touch. It was three in the night, no one could blame you for wanting this comfort of your own memories. As painful as they were when you were completely in your senses, in this darkness, they were all yours to do what you pleased with them. However, like a dream, the memories kept evading your grasp. The more you tried to hold on it, the further away it slipped. Sleep eluded you completely after that.

Needless to say, you were tired and sleepy and irritated by the time the last lecture for the week commenced. You hadn’t memorised the lecture schedule yet…. you only knew when the Civil Procedure class was. First lecture on Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday and the last lecture of Thursday and Friday. Lacey had mentioned something about Sam having to travel to the City for work on the first three days. 

Sam was dressed more informally today. He was without a coat and glasses, hair just a little out of order… less sleek.

“Oooohhh looks like the professor had a rough night!” Lacey giggled.

“You don’t know that,” Madison shushed. “Maybe he’s single.”

“Oh, c’mon!” Lacey rolled her eyes. “He lives in the faculty residence on Alverado row. And his house is definitely a family house, not a bachelors pad… So that means he at least has a woman.”

You caught your breath. Alverado row was right behind your Santa Ynes street, where you lived. Literally right behind, less than a block away. You knew a majority senior faculty staff resided there, but it had never crossed your mind…

“I don’t see no ring,” snarked Rebecca, Madison’s blonde friend, who was sitting a row ahead of you to the left.

You quickly looked. She was right… there was no ring. Your heart skipped a beat.

“Doesn’t have to be a wife,” Lacey made a face. “Could be just a girlfriend.”

“Whatever,” Rebecca rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean we can’t try our luck.”

It stung, listening to them talk about it stung more than you wanted to admit even to yourself.

“Before we start today’s lesson, I have a question for you,” Sam said, calling everyone’s attention and the gossip promptly stopped.

“Basic Property damage,” he said. “The plaintiff has proved beyond a shadow of doubt that the defendant is liable. The only issue of debate which remains is the amount of damages to be recovered. Before the last hearing, new evidence comes to light about a completely unrelated matter where the plaintiff has unintentionally harmed the defendant. If you were playing the part of the DA, what would be your obvious course of action.”

‘Settlement’ you muttered to yourself, just loud enough for the few people around you to hear.

“Anyone?” Sam asked, and on cue, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Settlement!” She called out.

“That’s correct,” Sam said, “It should occur to you faster than lightning to draw out a settlement. Good job there. That was quick.”

Next to her, Madison was looking at her friend incredulously. Then she turned around and gave you a sorry look. The boy sitting on her opposite side, the blond one, who had snickered at you on the first day also raised an eyebrow.

You didn’t care one way or another if Rebecca got the praise for your answer. You were simply relieved that you got that answer right… and that you were able to concentrate in the class better than you had been able to uptil now.

Perhaps that was the reason that it caught your attention, the quickest flick of Sam’s chin in your direction, before he stiffly averted his gaze. When the class ended, few students rushed to Sam’s desk, while you made to leave the room.

“Hey!”

You turned to see the blond dude standing right next to you.

“Y/N, isn’t it?” He asked.

You nodded.

“Brad,” he offered his hand. “Brad Rowan.”

“Nice to meet you.” you murmured, shaking his hand whilst glancing at the door. 

“So, we have a party tomorrow evening,” he said, grinning with too much confidence. “Down at the western dorms. Everyone cool is coming. You should, too.”

“Thank you,” you said politely. “But I already have plans for the weekend.”

“Better than spending time with me?” He winked, stepping ever so slightly in front of you.

You were firm this time. “Yes.”

“Oh, let her be, Brad.” It was Madison, who had come sauntering down the aisle. “If she says she’s busy, she probably is. We’ll miss you, Y/N!”

You threw her a grateful look… Madison didn’t seem to catch it.

You said your goodbyes to her and Brad and left the room quickly.

Maybe it was your imagination, but out of the corner of your eye, you saw Sam’s gaze flicker towards you… if only for one moment.


	4. Torment

** Sam’s POV **

The ringing got to the point where Sam reached out and almost flung the phone across the room. It was the first time in over a week that he’d actually managed to fall asleep, that too in the early hours of the morning. Who was even calling this early?

He opened one eye to read the name on the screen and promptly sat up in his bed.

“Dean?” He answered. “Is everything okay?”

“Oh yeah!” Dean’s voice sounded absolutely normal on the other side, goofy even. “I just woke up super early to go for a walk. For the first time. I thought you’d be proud. It was your idea after all.”

“Dean,” Sam groaned. “It’s five in the morning.”

“Aren’t you always up at five anyway?”

He had a point, but today was not the day.

“If it’s nothing important, I’m going back to bed,” Sam declared. “I haven’t had a good night’s sleep in a while.”

“Aren’t you by yourself for like two more weeks? What’s keeping you up now?”

Nightmares, horrors and well, the woman I had loved with all my heart who abandoned me seven years ago?

Sam almost said it. Almost. The words died on his lips, though.

“It’s nothing. I’m just really tired,” he said finally.

“Those guys at work still giving you a hard time?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Nobody is giving me a hard time! It was one case and over a year ago. I’m not five. You can’t kick people’s asses for me anymore.”

“Just give me the names.”

Sam laughed. For the first time in a week, the knot in his chest loosening. Maybe that’s what he needed. He should have called his brother sooner. 

Dean deserved to know about Y/N. Hell, Sam should have called him the moment he walked out of that classroom. He would have, too, had it not taken him a whole day to come to terms with the fact that he wasn’t _dreaming_ to begin with. 

That’s where he saw her afterall… She was the part of his worst nightmare. He would be damned though, if she wasn’t also the loveliest dream he’d ever dreamt, ever _felt_.

“Sam?” Dean asked. “Did you fall asleep on me?”

“No.”

“Okay, I lied,” Dean admitted. “I’m not exercising or anything. I just couldn’t fall asleep. I don’t know, man. I had this weird feeling in my gut that something wasn’t right with you.”

Sam held his breath, feeling a strange ache within him. Dean always _knew._

“Everything’s alright, Dean.” I am just slowly going insane here.

There was a heavy pause and Sam was almost convinced that Dean could see through his bullshit. When Dean spoke, his voice held a gravity. “If there’s anything, and I mean anything at all, you’ll call me, right?”

“Who else do I even have?” Sam said in a low defeated voice. “Of course I’ll call you.”

“Now you get back in that bed, and sleep your ass off!”

Amazing how his brother could be so insightful one minute and order him around like he was a three year old the next.

“Bye, Dean.”

“Bye, Sammy.”

*click*

Sam fell back into his bed, staring at the perfect beige ceiling. It hadn’t been more than two years since he’d moved in the faculty accoms and what with all that had happened since, he’d never had the time to move out, or even properly look for a better place.

He closed his eyes, knowing perfectly well how pointless it was. Sleep wasn’t going to come… what came instead was the image of her, looking at him with absolute horror from the top row of the lecture hall. And despite everything that had happened, Sam had wanted nothing more than to run across the steps and hold her in his arms. Hold her so tight and never let go.

However, before he could move, she had fled the room, like mirage. Leaving him to question if it had been real at all. Maybe the years had got to him and he was hallucinating. It was the first time in his career that he’d frozen on the dais. And only when someone called his name, had he come back to the now.

In fact, he’d been so sure that it had just been a play of his mind, that he’d left the class promptly and actually verified the student admission list from the administration office.

_“Y/N Y/L/N”_

After that all he could do was walk back to his house aimlessly.

This couldn’t be happening. What was he going to do? Run back to her? Find her and then what?

Things weren’t the same now. He didn’t know anything about her life anymore.

Then the anger came.

How dare she? How could she have absolutely destroyed him like that and then come waltzing back into his life just when he had managed to put it back together, painfully and piece by piece.

He could go back and take a look at her entire application; know what she had been up to. But would that even matter?

Sam had spent the whole day just sitting by himself in the dark, and even the next. Calls from work, and college be damned. He couldn’t go in there and pretend like he didn’t care, that he didn’t want to rage and riot and ask her why she had left him like that! 

But he was more than just a heartbroken man. And he wasn’t twenty five anymore. He had responsibilities now, people who looked up to him. So locking himself up wasn’t an option. He had to face the world, even when he didn’t want to. Especially then.

When he stepped into the room on Friday, he’d made up his mind to not look for her. The eye contact might not mean anything to her, but it just might be his undoing. And after all he had been through, he couldn’t fall apart now. These were his students and they didn’t need to see that.

As it turned out, he needn’t have worried at all. Y/N wasn’t there. Had she run off again? Was it really such a bad thing for her to be in the same room as him? 

It took him a while to get on track. Knowing that she wasn’t there, did help, made it easier to concentrate, easier to set out the syllabus.

Over the weekend, Sam made a game plan- pretend that she didn’t exist, whether or not she attended classes. If he convinced himself that she was still gone, he could go on with the lecture. After all, he could do it for two hours a day. It shouldn’t have to be that hard.

It was _very_ hard.

She wore purple on Monday, and he’d be damned if he didn’t admit that his heart sped up when he saw her. That one glance was all Sam allowed himself. It took every ounce of his will power to concentrate on what he was speaking. 

It did not get any easier as the week passed. Sam did get better at controlling his face, if not his emotions and by Thursday, even managed a few jokes that hit the mark. All the while, he didn’t dare look at her, still not confident that he could handle it. It helped that he was busy with a twisted property matter at work that required multiple trips to the court. It kept him engaged and his mind occupied.

Sam was so ready for the weekend by the time Friday rolled in. One more class and he’d be free of the agony for two more days. 

He did not look at her still. He came very close once, when the girl right ahead of her answered a question, but his gaze only lasted long enough to make out that she was wearing beige today. 

In the minutes after the class ended, a small group of students gathered around him asking doubts about the topic. It was a somewhat hard concept to understand, and it provided him with further distraction.

Next to them, a commotion caught his eye, A boy was standing on the side of the dias. Right next to him stood Y/N.

“Thank you, but I already have plans for the weekend,” she said, her voice polite. 

Sam clenched his fists. The sound of her voice was enough to repeal each and every effort he’d put into remaining fortified through the week.

Her voice was just as soft and kind. Without consciously deciding to, he abandoned the conversation he was having completely to listen to her, yearning more for the sound of her voice like his life depended on it. Another girl had joined Y/N and the boy. Then, Y/N left, without saying anything.

“Mr. Winchester?”

Sam wrenched himself back into the conversation. It was the girl who had answered his question. 

“Mr. Winchester, my name’s Rebecca Staten,” she said, leaning close. “What about the internship applications? At Acton Griswold.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes. “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that. The hiring is all HR, and I have little to no say in it.”

“Oh, but it would be wonderful getting to work with you.”

Sam backed away quickly, grabbing his case and laptop. “I assure you working with me is highly overrated. See you next week!” He concluded and left the class in a hurry.

The moment he was out, the anger returned, at her and himself. She didn’t care about what happened to him, and yet here he was pining after her like a lovestruck teenager. She already had plans, while he spent his evenings in darkness trying to get her out of his head.

Now, Sam lay in his bed, still clutching to his phone even after Dean had long hung up.

It was 5:30 and for once he didn’t feel like stepping out of his bed. Who knew? Maybe the world had some more crap to fling in his face.

Sam closed his eyes remembering the day when he’d first realised what she meant to him.

* * *

** 21st July 2006 **

“If you stayed quiet any longer, I’d have to start worrying,” Dean said, glancing at his brother from the driver’s seat.

“What?” Sam shrugged.

“You know what I’m talking about!”

“You don’t know shit!”

Dean shushed, glancing at a sleeping Jo in the backseat of their car. “She had a rough night,” Dean whispered. “Stop shouting. You’ll wake her up.”

So much concern. Sam rolled his eyes.

“Oh, you’re the one to act pricey,” Dean hissed. “Don’t think I don’t know what’s up with you.”

“What’s up with me?”

“It’s that girl, Y/N. Isn’t it?” Dean asked. “You’re worried about her.”

Sam said nothing. What was he going to tell Dean when he himself didn’t know why he was so worried for her.

She had gone mute with shock at first when Jo broke the news to her. Slowly as her face started to crumple, she looked at him once and excused herself to go upstairs. Jo had given him one sympathetic look as he stood there in the middle of their living room, then followed her cousin to the room. He had seen himself out after the maddening urge to run after Y/N, hold her and comfort her had been squished. Afterall, he barely knew her… it wasn’t his place to comfort her in any way… and yet, it had simply felt wrong to walk out of that house knowing she was distraught.

He had been restless since, unable to concentrate on preparation for his interview. Her sweet smile and then the shocked look on her face kept coming back to him, to the point where he regretted not following her to her room. Maybe, just maybe she would have let him help.

Ellen had driven Y/N to her hometown that evening, while Jo had stayed back to look after the diner. Dean, who Sam suspected was more than just sweet on her had been making home calls for leaking sinks and what not.

Now it was his turn to drive her to the funeral. Sam had ridden along without really explaining to either of them… why? He needed to figure that one out for himself first.

“I just- I don’t even know why I’m going there,” Sam said, finally. “I mean, you’re driving your girlfriend. What am I doing?”

Surprisingly, Dean didn’t contest the _girlfriend part,_ neither did he make a sarcastic retort.

“You have plenty of time to find out,” Dean said, without taking his eyes off the road. 

“She’s just so different,” Sam thought out loud. 

“You’re not wrong about that,” Jo said from the back seat. She was up and looked absolutely exhausted. “It’s so hard to get through to her.”

“What do you mean?”

Jo stretched her arms and ran her hands down her dress, trying to smoothen it. “I have never been close to her,” she said. “After my aunt and her husband died in the crash, Y/N went to stay with her grandmother. She visited us once in three years or so but never stayed for more than a week. She has always been quiet. Even as a kid she was polite and soft spoken. Don’t get me wrong, I liked her well enough, but I kinda dreaded her visits cause each time she came, mom would have a mini complex over how well-behaved she was and I was a mess.”

Dean chuckled, finding that funny for some reason.

“I love having her over now, though. And I get why she’s been so grown up. Her gran was pretty awesome. She took care of Y/N sure, but Y/N had to take care of her, too. Had to be sincere and not trouble the old lady. Her gran called her ‘the little ray of sunshine.’

Seemed apt enough to Sam. He’d rather die than admit to his brother and Jo, but there was this light that Y/N seemed so full of, that he couldn’t get enough of.

Sam shook his head, dispelling the insane thought, embarrassed.

“This, Y/N,” Dean asked, “She has anyone else?”

In the rear-view mirror, Sam saw Jo shaking her head sadly. 

“It’s just us now. I bet mom’s tried to get her to move in with us… but Y/N doesn’t budge. We’ve tried to get her to move here plenty of times.”

“But that meant she’d have had to leave her grandmother,” Sam said. “She wouldn’t have then. What’s stopping her now?”

“Self-respect,” Jo said the word like it was dubious.

Sam understood this better than Jo. The feeling that you were causing discomfort to others, that you were a burden… your existence, an obligation.

Bobby had loved him and Dean like his own kids and Karen had been so sweet, but deep down he and his brother always knew the sacrifices they’d had to make to raise two boys. Cutting the edges to make the ends meet. It had been the reason that the moment Dean was old enough, he’d moved out, pulling Sam with him. And Sam couldn’t have been prouder of his brother. They both missed Bobby and Karen, and the love and warmth, but, at least Bobby didn’t have to break his back overworking now. He could kickback a little and enjoy some privacy with his wife.

Dean was staring straight ahead. From the set of his mouth and the intensity of his eyes, Sam could make out the shift in his brother. A newfound respect for Y/N because of the luxury she had given up for the sake of her grandmother.

When Dean spoke, he confirmed it for Sam. “So, Y/N is by herself now?”

Y/N… and not ‘that girl.’

“It’s just awful,” Jo said angrily. “Y/N loved her gran more than anyone in the world. I don’t know how she’s going to get over this.” Then her voice steeled. “We’re not going to listen to her this time. She can’t live in that crap town by herself. She’ll have to move in with us now.”

“Won’t be that hard to convince her,” Sam added, “She’ll get her acceptances in a month or so and by fall she’ll be off to wherever anyway. It’ll be a matter of a few months. You can press that.”

“Yeah,” Jo said slowly, giving Sam a scrutinising look, like it was slowly dawning to her just how much he knew.

Sam cleared his throat and looked out of the window.

Jo pointed the directions to the church when they reached the town and Dean found the perfect parking spot. Sam adjusted his coat as he stepped inside the Church. The funeral was being held in the side room, and almost everyone from the small-ish town seemed to be there. Jo disappeared into the crowd immediately trying to find Ellen, and after a look to make sure that Sam was alright, Dean followed her.

This left Sam all by himself in a funeral full of strangers.

A few elderly women gave him a once over, trying to place him, and Sam moved away quickly, guessing that the family would be up ahead.

“… poor girl… I don’t know what else he has to live for now…”

Sam halted at the words.

Two middle aged women were talking to each other. The second one scoffed lightly. “Literally. Old Gertrude didn’t really own a fortune to leave behind. Just the old house and a now useless bakery. That girl can’t bake to save her life, I’ve heard.”

“Oh, don’t talk like that!” The first woman said, “That child’s distraught!”

“She’s no child,” said the other woman, whom Sam was beginning to hate, “She’s eighteen. At her age I was married to my Robert and little Jonathan was already on his way. Besides, she’s a jinx, don’t you think? Got her parents killed when he was a child and now…”

Sam walked away as fast as he could before he said something in anger that he would regret later.

At the very front, on the podium was a close casket. People moved slowly making hushed conversations around it. At the foot of the casket, next to the rows of chairs stood Ellen, in a sharp, black skirt and jacket, talking to a man in low voice. On the first two chairs sat Jo, Dean beside her. She seemed to be wiping her tears while Dean held her hand. 

Sam’s eyes scanned the milling crowd. Y/N was nowhere to be seen amongst them. He looked at the aisle and then at the chairs, finally spotting her on the last chair of the second row, sitting by herself, staring blankly ahead. Then, he noticed the little things… how people were looking at her and then averting their gaze. The expression on her face wasn’t exactly sorrow… it was the look a person’s face might hold after they had lost everything they had. Everything. Just looking at her filled Sam’s heart with dread. Those who wanted to meet her were unable to because Ellen strategically blocked the path to get to her. She’d engage them in a small talk and then they’d go away.

Sam cut across the line of chairs in the 5th row and reached the edge of the hall. The chairs had been arranged in a way that there was little no space left to walk, but Sam managed, flattening himself against the wall and inching towards where Y/N was sitting. He walked right past her to the seat beside her, but she didn’t notice, she didn’t even blink, just stared fixedly at the mural of wreathed flowers over the casket. 

“Y/N?” he said quietly, and she startled out of it, unseeing at first, then realising that he was there. 

“Sam.”

Her voice was thick and so unsteady that it broke Sam’s heart.

All he wanted to do was reach out and hug her, comfort her in anyway that he could. For now, he placed his hand over hers, something he had done before, so it wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.

“Sam,” she whispered again, gripping his hand tightly with her other. Tight enough to hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” he said fervently, feeling helpless at her pain. “Tell me. Is there anything I can do?”

She looked lost, her Y/E/C eyes flitting from his face to the side and back again. She was about to say something, but at the very moment the pastor called for attention. They were moving the casket. The pastor gestured to everyone to begin moving towards the cemetery. Over his shoulder, Sam could see Ellen giving him a curious look and she wasn’t the only one. There were so many pairs of prying and questioning eyes. To the point where Sam began to doubt whether Y/N would want to be seen with him. However, she held on to his hand steadily as she rose. He stood up with her. 

Y/N did not let go of his hand even as they walked to the churchyard, and Sam stopped giving a single care about what anyone was thinking. Her hold on him was steady, but her fingers still shook and her other hand was clutching the fabric of her plain grey dress tightly.

The pastor asked her if she had any last words to say for her grandmother. Y/N resolutely shook her head and they lowered the casket into the earth. People walked up to her to offer condolences, hugs and words of kindness, and she nodded in acknowledgement, eyes cast downwards.

Sam wondered how it looked to others. Did she appear to be a graceful image of grief? Elegant in her sorrow? Or whatever crap the crazy writers were writing these days. To him the shiver of her lips, the rapid rise and fall of her chest was very clear… very there! She wasn’t some beautiful, solitary figure of sadness, she was a person, breathing and living, who was barely keeping it together.

Ellen was the last to hug her, tightly. Sam had to let go for her hand. 

“It’ll be alright, Darling,” Ellen said, stroking her Y/H/C hair. “It might not feel like it now, but things will be fine.”

No they wouldn’t. Things would never be fine, Sam knew. Not the fine that Y/N was used to… She’d just learn to live around the hollow of her missing Gran. One day at a time she’d get used to living like this… and that would become her new _fine._

Jo hugged the two of them behind and Y/N closed her eyes, damp now, returning the hug tightly.

Almost everyone but Sam, Dean, Jo, Ellen and Y/N had gone back to the church for the dinner.

“Do you want to go inside?” Ellen asked, when she finally disentangled herself.

Y/N shook her head. “I’d like to stay here for a while.”

Ellen looked unsure but she nodded. “I’ll be inside. You’ll come find me?”

Y/N nodded gratefully. 

“Okay then.”

Jo kissed her cousin on the cheek and left with her mother. 

Dean walked over to Y/N, his step somewhat hesitant. “I know what it’s like to lose your parents as a child,” he said quietly. So quietly that Sam could barely hear it. “And I know what it’s like to live your life for just that one person who is left behind with you-” he gaze flickered towards Sam- “I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. God knows I’d not want to live for a minute if something happened to- happened to Sammy.” 

She looked up, a spark of fear in her eyes. Her whole frame jerked. Dean was taken aback just for a split second before an understanding look dawned on his face. Sam didn’t recognise even a bit of what had just passed between them.

He was even more surprised when all of a sudden Dean opened his arm and Y/N let him hug her briefly. 

He might have whispered something, or it might have been nothing at all, but when he let go, she held on to his sleeve.

“Thank you,” Y/N whispered, her eyes brimming now, tears starting to flow earnestly for the first time. 

“You look after yourself now,” Dean said gently. “I’ll see you inside.”

He clapped Sam on the shoulder and after casting one long look at her, Sam turned to leave with his brother.

“Sam!”

Her voice was stronger now, and no sooner had she uttered the words, he was moving to be next to her.

“Will you… will you stay with me?” She asked, eyes expectant, and beyond anguished.

“Of course,” he said breathlessly.

He looked back to ask his brother to leave, but Dean was already at the gate of the churchyard, walking further away.

The sun was setting against the horizon in front of them, and the chill in the air was beginning to settle. Y/N rapped her arms around herself. Sam remembered the first time he had seen her do that, outside the bar. He would have shrugged out of his coat had Y/N not unfolded her wrap and thrown it over her shoulders. She leaned towards him, and as if it was the most natural thing to do, Sam wrapped one arm around her shoulder, drawing her close against his side. He let her borrow whatever warmth she needed on this cold, cruel evening. 

“Sam,” Y/N said after a while. “I’m really glad you’re here.”

He didn’t reply, simply ran his hand over the side of her arm, as they stood silently in front of the freshly covered grave.

* * *

Sam opened his eyes, almost smelling the air from that evening, almost feeling the heat of her body. Then sighed.

He needed to stop doing this to himself. Some might say it would have been easier to forget it all. Sam didn’t believe in that. He’d revisited the memories that meant so much to him over and over, till he remembered the last detail, till he could go relive them at his beck and call.

Of course they brought a boat load of pain, even the good memories, but Sam considered it a good bargain, all things considered. He hadn’t wanted to live a day where he couldn’t remember the precise colour of her eyes, or the sweet shyness of her smile.

And now precisely this habit of his was screwing him over when the real Y/N was right in front of him, and he couldn’t reach out to touch her like he could in the memories.

Then again, the real Y/N didn’t care for him one way or another.

Sleep wasn’t going to come purely because it was a Saturday. Lying around in bed was pointless. He rolled over in the bed and his eyes fell on the photo on his night stand. 

Looking at the picture, the loneliness hit afresh. The person in the photo had become his sole reason to live as a functional human for the past two years. Sam missed those arms around his neck more than he could put into words. The missing was so bad, that it almost twisted his guts.

“Two more weeks,” he reminded himself. Two more weeks and he could see that face, that dimpled smile again. It was his reason to smile.

He placed a kiss on the frame and got out of the bed. Better to be productive than mope around all day. And who knew, if he managed to get busy, maybe, just maybe he wouldn’t think about Y/N.


	5. Acknowledgement

“Y/N! Y/N, open the door!”

You hurriedly stepped out of the bathroom in a t-shirt and a towel wrapped around your waist.

Kevin was standing in front of the bathroom, not even a little concerned about the state of your dressing. 

“We’re taking bets about whether it will rain this week or not,” he announced. “You have to cast your vote.”

You looked around the room. Meg’s door was locked from the outside which meant she wasn’t here.

“Who let you in?”

“I have a key to your apartment,” he said matter of factly. “So does Cas.”

“Vaguely concerning, but I’ll allow it, since you’re not trying to rob me. Only tempting me with the vices of gambling.”

Kevin looked delighted at the retort. “Aha! So you _do_ have a cutting edge humour. I’m winning 5 bucks over that from Jack.”

You rolled your eyes and walked into your bedroom, finding your drawstring pants and pulling them on.

“If it makes you feel any better, you now have a key to our apartment also as well as Cas’s.” Kevin jerked his head towards the kitchen counter where a new pair of brass keys shone in the light. “On this floor, we all like to keep the keys handy in case of emergencies.”

He plopped down on the sofa. “So about the rain…”

It looked like he really had broken into your apartment to ask for your bet.

“It’s September. It’s never going to rain,” you said.

“And you’re sure about that?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Should I be checking the weather forecast? And how much are we playing for?”

“You can check the forecast,” he said sagely, “It’s allowed. I have to warn you though that basing your vote off it has proven disadvantageous in the past. And we’re not playing for money.”

“Do I get to know who sided with what?”

“Not till you’ve put your bet in.”

“Dang it!”

He wiggled his eyebrows making you laugh. “Okay. I’m sure. I’ll go with what I said. It’ll not rain.”

“Oh, and Y/N-” he smiled evilly- “You should know that if it rains, you’re going to have to get wet in it! You have Pam, Cas and Jack siding with you so far.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the thought of drenching in the rain. “It’s not going to rain, so I’m safe. What happens if I get it right?”

“The losing party has to be a company to judgy Judy and sun bath all of Sunday. Lotion will be provided.”

“This is ridiculous,” you laughed.

He stopped at the door. “Only when you lose.”

You spent the weekend catching up on your reading and familiarising yourself with the syllabus. When that was done, you set to work on your assignments… and when that was done, too, there were always job applications. Sustenance was unfortunately a necessity.

Come Sunday evening, Meg dragged you to the downstairs to the get together. It surprised you just how much everyone liked having you around, especially since you contributed absolutely nothing to the conversations. Pam pulled an accurate impression of the undergrads on the second floor and everyone laughed. 

It was a homely feeling.

* * *

Sam was already ready and going through the papers on his desk when you entered the lecture hall. He did not look up from them as the class slowly filled up. You didn’t necessarily make it a point to sit with Madison but somehow for most Civil Procedure classes she happened to sit next to you. You liked her well enough, however those girls who came with her said such awful things sometimes that it made you wish you were anywhere but around them.

Today Madison came in before any of the girls and took her seat next to you. 

“Hi,” she said, drawing her laptop out.

“Hey!” You smiled at her.

“Thanks for sitting besides me,” Madison said. “Having you around makes me feel so calm, and helps me concentrate.”

“Really?” You asked, surprised.

“Yeah,” she said, then smiled apologetically. “You know how the girls are… they’re always so jittery and gossiping. But you… you just have such a steady energy around you.”

Strange. To you, it didn’t feel like you had energy at all.

“You know what I mean, right?” Madison said. “I feel like I can tell you anything, share things with you and you won’t judge me or tell on me. I feel like you wouldn’t turn me away if I ever asked for your help. You are just such a nice person.”

“Madison…” you said, touched. 

She shook her head. “You can just call me Maddie, if you like.”

She wasn’t necessarily right about you being a ‘nice person,’ but you certainly wouldn’t judge her… you of all people after everything you had done. And when it came to helping out another, it was just the decent thing to do, especially for someone you called a friend. It didn’t make you a nice person. It just made Madison’s other friends not so good at friendship.

“Alright then, _Maddie_ ,” you smiled. “We shall sit next to each other for as long as you want.”

Madison beamed. Not her usual girly laugh, instead a smile that reached her eyes in all their seriousness. You wondered what sorrow she’d had to live through. 

“Maddie!” Rebecca came up from behind and sat next to Madison. “I missed you over the weekend. Oh, we’re sitting with Y/N again?”

“Yes,” said Madison too sweetly. “She’s my friend. Try not to steal her answers though, Becca.”

Behind her Lacey giggled.

You had to cover your face, too, to hide the grin.

Sam called the class to attention, smiling at everyone. It was breathtaking and painful in equal parts.

“Before we begin,” he said, “It’s been brought to my attention that I’m the only one who hasn’t set you guys an assignment. We can’t have that happening now, can we?”

There were a few groans, and Sam gave everyone a teasing look. “It’s not something that’ll take up a lot of your time. I’m not setting you an essay, just a 500 word brief. Before we get into that, I need to know you guys better. Everyone who has a pre-law please raise your hands. About fifteen to twenty percent of the class raised their hands. 

“Impressive,” Sam said. “Sociology, political science or any other law allied field?”

Majority of the remaining class raised their hands.

“And how many of you guys have worked in any capacity in law fields? Have actual experience?”

About ten to twelve people raised their hands. Slowly, you put your arm up as well.

At the edge of your vision you sensed Rebecca glaring at your hand. 

Sam sweeped his gaze over the class. Maybe he hadn’t expected you to be one of the crowd, because for a split second the startlement was clear on his face. He blinked twice, then looked away.

Split second of eye contact was enough to make you weak in your knees. Bring back a flood of memories, of having looked so deeply in those very eyes. 

He paused, cleared his throat and said, “I suppose this will be somewhat easier for those of you who have a pre-law background. For your assignment, you have to pick the most dicey, interesting or unusual Civil suit or petition you can find, and describe in brief how the written content and consequent presentation saved or screwed over the case. Go crazy with the type of case, as long as it’s civil and filed in the states. The law library has a complete and updated archive of all judgements and petitions in public domain for your reference.”

Giving you a stink eye, Rebecca raised her hand.

“Yes… Miss Staten, is it?”

“Yes, Rebecca Staten,” she said, practically gloating. “Do you specialise in Civil cases? And if so, can we pick one of yours?”

Sam’s eyebrows twitched a little and he brushed at the hair near his ear. To anyone else it would have meant nothing, barely noticeable. You knew better. It was discomfort. He was uncomfortable with the question. Seeing him, you felt an instinctive spark of annoyance towards Rebecca, which was absolutely ridiculous. It wasn’t your place to feel anything on Sam’s behalf. Not anymore.

“I don’t specialise in Civil… I do predominantly take them up, but that’s certainly not it. In fact, my most distinctive case isn’t even a Civil one,” he said. “Rest assured, if you want to make the most of the assignment, none of my cases would be of any help.”

“Makes me wonder…” Madison whispered next to you.

“You have until Wednesday to hand it in. It does not have to be technical, so it shouldn’t take much time,” he announced. “Back to the class now. We’re working on Trial components and rules…”

After the classes for the day ended, Madison caught up with you.

“Where are you headed?” She asked.

“The library.”

“Oh, excellent, I was heading there, too,” she said happily.

“Where are the others?” It made you feel like a wretched person, but you didn’t think you could take anymore of those girls.

Madison wiped her brow. “They wanted to head out to San Francisco for the night.”

“But it’s a Monday,” you spoke unthinkingly.

She gave you a look which made it clear that she shared your opinion.

“I thought you’d want to research Mr. Winchester’s assignment. Do you mind if I join?”

The thought of working with someone for once was actually pleasant, “Of course I don’t. It’ll be fun, Maddie.”

She smiled at your use of her nickname. “Alright then.”

The Robert Crown law library was smaller and very modern in comparison to the Green library. It was all white walls, beige minimalist furniture and compactly placed bookshelves next to rows of computers. The appearance didn’t fool you in the least. You knew from having read and well, from having heard about it so many times from Sam that it was extensively stocked with information on thousands and millions of suits, petitions, litigations and what not. It had every possible book that you would want to refer to while building a case, by-laws, constitutional laws and so many other rules and regulations. 

The two of you picked adjacent computers and began sifting through the cases. The sorting system itself boggled your mind, let alone the data within. Soon you were lost in a sea of cases, just reading through them instead of researching for the assignment. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” muttered Madison besides you.

“Mmmm?” You asked absentmindedly.

When she didn’t reply, you looked over. Madison was staring intently at the screen.

“You know when Mr. Winchester was talking to Becca earlier?” She asked, without taking her eyes off the screen.

“Yeah?” You remembered vividly.

“He mentioned how his most distinctive case wasn’t a Civil one?” Her voice was low. “I got curious and looked it up.”

You didn’t even know what to say.

“Turns out he was downplaying it. This looks like a huge deal.”

Despite everything, you gave your swivel chair a push and moved next to Madison.

“What’s it about?” You asked, curiosity getting the better of you.

“It’s complicated and over two years old. Looks like it’s a matter of twin homicides in conjunction with multiple matters of abuse and a custody battle. It says he was working with Simpsons and associates in LA back then.”

“LA?” 

“Yeah.” She added guiltily, “I pulled out his public profile in accordance with his registration with the Bar Council. It has his whole bio-data.”

You knew you shouldn’t look. God, you knew it and you looked anyway.

“Stanford… Yale… and there’s a small town in Kansas where he was registered for a year. Then one year in NY, Four in LA, and two at Griswold Acton.”

New York… So he _did_ go there. The thought pierced you like a shard. 

“I think… I think I’m gonna go back now,” you said quietly.

Madison looked at the watch. “Shit! It’s already past 7! Yeah, we should hurry.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Madison said, as you walked along the curb, “The weekend after this one, I’m throwing a party at this bar a few blocks away. And I really want you to come.”

“Is it your birthday?” You asked, feeling awful that you were asking after being invited.

“Yes, the next day. I’m doing this the night before so we’ll be together when the clock hits 12. You’ll come, right?”

You hesitated.

“It’ll be fun, really. I know the girls can be a bit too much sometimes, but there’ll be other people.”

That was even worse.

“It would mean a lot to me,” she insisted.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. “Only if you let me get you a present.”

She looked like she wanted to protest, but then gave in. “Okay.” She threw her arms around you. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

You wandered back to the apartment, racking your brain about what to put in the assignment. Nothing came to you.

Weird dreams interrupted your sleep that night, homicides and custody disputes. You kept yelling that the child was yours and like in the old 70’s movies, the judge banged the gavel calling for order…. Then, the scene shifted. You were trapped, your hands and shoulders bound. There was glass around you. Shards of glass, blood and icy water, numbing your senses, dulling your pain as it soaked your hair and drenched you to the bone. You wanted to scream for help, but cold also made you sleepy. You wanted to ask the judge… tell him to hand you the child, but there was no judge… just cold and hammering rain.

You woke up chilly. Drenched in sweat, but still very cold. It was just a dream… not reality. Just a dream. You rolled over and sleep found you again.

“You look like you came back from the dead,” Meredith said first thing next morning. 

You ignored her and took your seat in the row ahead of her. Unfortunately, that put you right next to Brad. 

Sam was on time as usual. He ran through his papers as the tech set up his laptop.

“He’s alright, really,” Brad said, making conversation. “Girls seem to swoon on him because he is the youngest faculty member and all. But he’s just average as a teacher.”

“I think he is fantastic,” you said, jutting your chin out, voice unnecessarily sharp.

Brad raised an eyebrow. “I thought you weren’t like the other girls.”

“If by other girls you mean the ones that worked hard to get into Stanford and know how to appreciate a good teacher, then I’m _exactly_ like the other girls.”

“Ooohhh, feisty,” he murmured under his breath. Sam called the class to attention and you chose to ignore Brad completely for the rest of the lecture, then made sure that you sat by yourself for the rest of the day.

The deadline for the assignment was tomorrow and you had no clue what you were handing in. That did not help with the anxiety.

On your way to the library, you dropped by at the Student’s employment office- without much hope- to check on that application anyway.

The girl at the desk ran through your profile once again as you gave her your name.

“Y/N,” she said in a monotone of someone who was bored out of their mind. “I actually have a hit for you here. I should warn you, it’s a tough gig-”

“Tell me!” You interrupted before she had even finished the sentence. 

She peered at you over her spectacles. “The odd hours librarian’s post at the Law library. You had an upper hand over the other applicants because you are a law student and live close by. You also have experience as a librarian before.”

“Yes, I want it!”

“Chillax, woman,” said the girl. “It’s an odd hours job. That means the night shift on three days and alternate weekends. It’s an 8 hour shift and 5 shifts per week. Twenty an hour.”

“Done.” You thought back to last night. It wasn’t like you were getting any good sleep anyway. Might as well make money out of it. 

The girl shrugged. “It’s yours then. You start this weekend. I’ll hook you up with the other librarian peeps. They’ll let you know about your shift.”

You thanked her and happily walked back towards the Law building. At least one thing seemed to have worked in your favour. One minute you were walking ahead, next you were on the floor, all your things knocked out of your hands. 

“I’m so sorry.”

You looked up into stunning hazel eyes. They were as familiar even now as if you had looked into them every day of your life.

Sam froze, having just realised that he had walked into you.

Up close he looked tired and definitely a lot thinner.

“Oh, God. Y/N!” Madison, who happened to walk by, reached out to help you to your feet.

“Are you okay?” she asked.

Numbly, you nodded. 

Sam methodically picked up your books and wallet, stacked them in a pile and handed it to you.

“Are you hurt?” He asked, quietly, eyes trained on the books in your hand.

You shook your head.

He acknowledged it with a jerk of chin and left without another word.

“What an ass!” Brad muttered coming up from behind. “First he knocked her down and then didn’t even apologise. I don’t get why y’all idealise him so much.”

“Oh, shut up,” Lacey said. “Y/N was the one who walked into him without looking. Ruined his perfectly good suit with her chapstick smear. And he _did_ apologise!”

You excused yourself as quickly as you could, still feeling the tingle on your skin where his fingers had lightly brushed yours, senses still filled with the smell of his cologne. Even after all these years it was still the same. 

You had bought that cologne for him. He still used the same one.

Tears pressed your eyes as you entered the vine covered gates of the apartment. 

At the lift, you ran into Cas.

He looked pleasantly surprised at the sight of you, which was weird because you both did stay on the same floor.

“You look… are you okay?” His voice was coloured with concern.

You _had_ to stop running into people when you were upset. Had to.

“No, no, I’m fine,” you tried to assure him. “I was heading home.”

“Yes, home,” Cas sighed, absentmindedly. “I miss having a roommate sometimes. Conversation is what makes it _home._ ”

You had reached your door.

“Hey,” you said, making an impulse decision. “Do you maybe wanna come in for a mug of coffee or something?”

He looked startled again. “Yeah, I would love that.”

Meg wasn’t home. You weren’t surprised. 

“Please make yourself at home,” you waved towards the sofa. “I’ll be right back.”

You quickly dumped your bag and books on your bed, swapped the shoes for your comfortable slippers, tied your hair in a bun at the top of your head and made a beeline for the kitchen.

Cas was in the balcony, looking at the front yard. 

“You guys have a fantastic view from here,” he said morosely. You felt bad for him. His was the only flat on the floor that didn’t have the yard facing balcony.

“Why didn’t you ask Pam to sublet you this one after the last tenant moved out?”

He shrugged. “I don’t spend much time at the apartment anyway with the night shifts and emergencies at the hospital. Besides, mine’s a small one and I don’t have a roommate, so it’s easy to clean after.”

“Is it too much work at the hospital?” You asked sympathetically, then realised how dumb the question was. It was a hospital. Of course there was too much work.

“Sometimes,” he answered truthfully. “The ER duty is dreadful because a lot of times you just can’t save a life. OPD days are so much better.”

You nodded thoughtfully.

“What about you? How’s law school treating you?”

You told him about how everyone was just so different from you. They had social circles and Monday night outs and were worried about internships for status as opposed to just wanting a job or actually learning. You told him about how there always seemed to be an ulterior motive to everything that they said or did.

It sounded like a rant even to your own ears, but God it felt good to unload. Cas was probably bored out of his mind. You let it all out anyway.

“And then- then they judge people based on their appearance. Just because I wear a sweater all the time doesn’t make me drab. I’m just really sensitive to cold. Just because a professor is young and good looking, doesn’t by default make him a bad teacher.”

You had to stop to take a breath, and were immediately possessed by a sense of embarrassment. Why were you putting this on a very tired Cas?

Cas, however, looked deep in thought. “Hmmm…” he said. “Correct me if I’m wrong. You don’t have any immediate family, do you?”

You shook your head. “I have no family left.”

Cas didn’t ask you the why or how come.

“Maybe that’s why,” he said, face resting on his palms. “You don’t live for anyone but yourself. You don’t have to put on a show like them.”

“What do you mean?”

“It means that you are being motivated by a desire to learn, to become a better person and to help the world become a better place. Most people are motivated by power, or money or just wanting to create an impression. No wonder you don’t fit in, Y/N. You stand out.”

You stared at him, stunned.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Cas put his hands up. “I mean it. Besides, you have us. I can tell for a fact that people here really like you. So who cares about the rich ass kids? They’re the reason lawyers got a bad rep.”

You giggled.

Then you remembered the coffee pot. “Oh, damn!”

Cas chuckled as you went to grab the pot and fix two coffees.

“What’re you thinking about the weekend?” Cas called from the balcony, “I think we’re on the losing side.”

“It’s September. It’s not raining.”

“That’s what I said last week. It rained.”

“Oh, no!”

Cas took a mug from your hands. “Thank you.”

He took a sip. “The forecast is never useful. Wish we could sue them for it.”

You put your mug down.

“CAS! You are a genius!”

“What?”

You rushed to your room to grab your computer, then settled on a chair, quickly typing the words out.

“I knew it!” You shouted in vindication. “I remembered reading about it.”

“Errr….” Cas hovered over you utterly confused. You turned the laptop so he could see.

“Look! In 1988 a woman did sue Chicago’s famous newsman over a wrong weather forecast!”

“Are you serious?” He put the mug down and sat next to you, reading the article.

You pointed at it excitedly. “See that’s what it says.”

“They dismissed her, right?”

You grinned at him. “She settled outside for a sum of half a million.”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Cas whistled.

“Oh, this is perfect for the assignment! Thanks, Cas.”

“My pleasure,” he said, somewhat bemused.

He read over your shoulder as you wrote the brief extract, pointing out how it was a trend setter of it’s kind when it came to dragging news media to the court. The woman had missed a flight which was cancelled as a precaution to the bad forecast and viola! It never rained. 

“This look good?”

“It’s perfect!” Cas said.

You dropped the file into the mailbox, then paused when it came to actually typing a mail, fingers trembling.

This was Sam you were writing to. He used to be your Sam.

You did it nevertheless. You typed his id and the thumbnail of his profile appeared. He wore a tan turtleneck and was smiling at the person holding the camera. Who could it have been?

“Is that the young professor you were talking about?” Cas asked offhandedly. 

“Mhmm.”

“I can see why he gets that sort of attention,” Cas chuckled.

You saw it, too.

Sighing internally, you hit the send button.

Cas high-fived you. “There are very few things in life as satisfying as a last minute submission,” he said, then looked at the watch. “I better go now, I’ve got an early morning shift.”

“Oh, wait for a bit,” you said, rushing to the kitchen counter, and pulling out a jar of cookies. “Here, have one. I got a job today, as a librarian. My Gran used to say that one should always offer sweets while breaking a good news.”

“Oh, congratulations!” Cas took a bite of the crumbly choco-chip cookie and moaned. “Oh, these are wonderful!”

You thrust the entire jar in his hand. “Here, take them all. I just like baking them…. not much of an eater.”

“You made these?” His voice was incredulous and you blushed. 

“My Gran used to run a small bakery from our house. I grew up watching her do what she loved the most. The smell of baking comforts me… and let’s just say I needed to be comforted lately.”

“Well, these are excellent!” He didn’t even resist for the sake of formality and took the jar.

You walked him to the door. “Hey, Cas. Thank you for tonight.”

It had been the first time since you had moved to the city that you actually felt like you had talked because you wanted to, shared what you really felt. It was the first time you had truly rejoiced that the bubble was gone and you could be happy in the company of another person.

Cas didn’t ask why you had thanked him. Oddly, he understood.

He placed a hand on your shoulder, where it lay heavy and comforting. “I had a great evening. If you ever want to share anything or you know bake too many cookies, I should tell you that I live right next door.”

You giggled. Cas tightened his grip on your shoulder for a moment and let go. He waved at you once more before closing his door. 

Later, as you lay in bed, you thought through the day and just how your emotions were all over the place. One minute you were distraught and the next, excited. The way that Brad annoyed you, no one ever had except for that one idiot in high school. You were used to having people rely on you. Even when you worked as a paralegal all through last year, your boss had been happy with your work, your colleagues were polite… but no one had remotely elicited any sort of reaction from you. It had been the same through all those years of pre-law. It hadn’t ever bothered you that you weren’t a part of the group. In fact, now that you looked back on the years, everything seemed so hazy, like you were looking at your memories through a heavily fogged glass.

In fact, that one year spent with Sam was clearer than the seven years spent after. You could recall every moment lived with him as if it was merely yesterday. And yet things that had happened a month back felt like they had happened ages ago. 

Deep down, you knew the reason for it. With Sam you had been happy… happier than you had ever been before. It was the _last_ time you had been happy, too. So did that mean you were beginning to be happy again now? 

Re-learning it one step at a time?

You rolled, mulling the thought over in your head and fell asleep dreamlessly after a very long time.

* * *

“Oh, the sweet release of Friday!” Madison moaned. “I can’t wait to fall into bed. Isn’t that right, Y/N?”

“I actually have plans for tonight,” you told her, “So I’m not expecting to see the bed anytime soon.”

“Oh, you wouldn’t show up to Brad’s party, but you have plans tonight?” Lacey wiggled her eyebrows. “Is there a special someone?”

It was Jack. You were going bowling with Jack and whoever else was free. You had protested the plan by explaining how awful you were at bowling. It had only delighted Jack more. Apparently, he sucked, too, but he really wanted to impress the girl who worked at the bowling alley. If he came off looking better than you, maybe, just maybe he’d have a chance with her. It seemed like a very very unlikely event, but you didn’t have the heart of telling him that. In fact, to your surprise you found yourself really excited for the evening.

“Just a friend.” You shrugged.

Lacey looked like she was about to press her point when Madison interrupted her.

“Oh, did any of you hear from Mr. Winchester? Regarding the assignment?” 

You threw her a grateful look for changing the topic.

Madison _had_ received a reply on Wednesday evening with a positive critique and so had Rebecca along with a few more people. 

It was all Rebecca needed to go on and on about the assignment, and how Mr. Winchester loved her work and remembered her name. You were a little disappointed that you never received a critique… but were you even expecting a reply from Sam? You had accepted that he was going to ignore you.

Sam did not mention the assignment at all. He made a few timed jokes about how everyone hated the last class on a Friday including him and he’d make it a point to let everyone off fifteen minutes early. The lecture was as captivating as usual. He spoke with such passion for law that even the most monotonous topics became suddenly interesting. You wouldn’t have cared if he had even extended the class, but he kept his promise and ended it about ten minutes early.

“Before you all leave for a much deserved weekend,” he said, “I want to congratulate you all on an assignment well done. Most of you had the most interesting topics picked out for the note. It certainly made for entertaining reads. I was hoping at least someone would bring up the several instances when Red bull got sued and I wasn’t disappointed. Four of you did. I’m sorry I couldn’t reply back to all of the emails, but there was a particular one that I’d like to bring to your attention. A 1988 lawsuit turned to a petition after a woman sued Chicago’s famous newsman Gary Holster over the wrong forecast.”

You could barely believe your ears.

“Mary Johnson was flying from Domestic Chicago to LAX along with 122 other passengers. And after predictions of a heavy storm, the flight was cancelled. Of course. it barely even rained. As a result, Miss Johnson lost a prospective job and the opportunity at a better life. What started as a snowflake of a suit, snowballed into a petition with over 76 plaintiffs after a newspaper published her story tagging it as ridiculous. The other passengers reached out to her, expanding into a full-fledged writ.”

He paused and took a deep breath. “All of you should take a look at the case as well as Ms. Y/L/N’s note. It was a particularly smart choice to pick this case because I had asked for weird and unusual… and the exact oddity of the case was what made it a national sensation in the late 80’s.”

Sam looked up, with precision, straight into your eyes. “Good job, Ms. Y/L/N.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest. The corner of your eyes stung.

Behind you Lacey muttered, “Oh, look, yours isn’t the only name he remembers, _Ms. Staten_.”

“Have a great weekend!” Sam wished before leaving the room. The class immediately broke into a babble and some people turned to spot you in the crowd. A few of them even came up to you to congratulate on an assignment well done. You promised to forward the assignment to the class group so everyone could see it. As it turned, out a couple of people stayed in the building next to yours. 

While leaving, you did notice Rebecca staring at you with ill concealed dislike and something close to suspicion.

“Y/N!” Jack was waiting for you in the front yard, which was officially nicknamed the meadow. He was sitting next to Judgy Judy with a satchel slung across his body.

“Hey, I’m going to run upstairs and drop my bag.” 

He sprang up from the parapet and eased your bag off your shoulder. “Don’t bother. We can just drop it off at Pam’s. Watch.”

He slid the shutter to her ground floor flat window and with extreme expertise pushed your big inside from in between to bars.

“Genius!” You lauded.

Jack grinned, “Pam is home and sleeping. By the time we get back, she’ll be up, ready to handover the bag.”

“Truly epic.”

“You guys don’t have too much fun without me!” Kevin yelled from his balcony where he was sitting with Cas. He looked bummed.

“What’s up with him?” 

Jack waved at Kevin and said loudly enough for him to hear, “Nothing. Kev’s just pissed that the weather is clear.”

Kevin cursed. “That dumb reported said it was going to rain. I’m gonna sue her!”

Next to him, Cas gave you a pointed look and winked. You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face.

Jack offered you his arm and you took it, feeling a strange happiness settle within you. Hand in hand you walked out. For the first time in years you didn’t know what to expect of tomorrow or even the next moment. The feeling was worth living for.


	6. Lovely

“This is fun!” You rolled the ball along the lane. It didn’t even reach halfway before sliding to the side.

“You actually suck!” Jack exclaimed somewhat surprised. “You weren’t lying about that.”

Sticking your tongue out at him, you let him pass to the aisle, carrying another bowling ball. He knocked out 2 pins in the first strike.

You cheered for him as he drew another and in his second turn knocked down four more.

He triumphantly pumped his fists in the air and you high fived him. “That’s more than either of us have accomplished this evening.”

Jack threw a wry look at the girl he had been eyeing all evening. “I don’t think I’ve impressed _her._ ”

The girl in question was a pretty blonde and you had definitely seen her check Jack out at least once. Jack was actually quite good-looking with his soft brown hair and a guileless smile.

“You know what I think?” You winked. “You should go talk to her.”

“Noooooo,” he backed off real quick. “She’s never going to want to talk to me.”

“I’ll bake you those cookies I gave Cas if you do it!”

He made a face. “Aw Y/N! You’re not playing fair.”

You shrugged. “It’s a one time deal. Take it or leave it.”

“You drive a hard bargain.” He glanced at the girl once. “I get the cookies even if she doesn’t agree?”

“Sure do. You just gotta ask her out!”

He gave you one accusing look, then walked over to the girl at the counter. You watched as she smiled sweetly and he nervously scratched his neck. After a few minutes, he came back waving a chit and a huge, disbelieving grin on his face. “She gave me her number. Can you believe that?”

“Whoever would have guessed.” You feigned disinterest. 

“This is such a win-win. I got a date on Sunday and I get the cookies,” he sighed happily.

You wanted to reach out and shuffle his hair, so you did and Jack wrinkled his nose at you.

The two of you grabbed a quick bite at a fast food trolley and walked home teasing each other about how sucky the bowling was.

“I thought the ball was going to drag you with it that one time,” Jack said as you opened the door to your apartment. 

“Know what?” You said conspiratorially. “I did, too.”

You waved a goodbye and then locked the door behind you, exhausted in the good way. The moment your head hit the pillow you were fast asleep.

* * *

** 14th August 2008 **

“C’mon, Y/N, you can do better than that,” Jo encouraged and you threw the ball hard. It still landed at her feet.

“I can’t do this,” you gave up, going to sit under the tree in the park. “I’m tired.” 

Jo sighed as she sat down beside you. “It’s been almost a month since your Gran… you know… You can talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you muttered, plucking the grass at your feet.

She laid back on the grass, staring into the bright blue sky. “It’s just that I know you’re hurting- I know it, but if you don’t tell me what to do, I can’t help you!”

No one _could_ help you. Help could only be given in times of a disaster or a problem. There was no help for the last person left alive in the world. No one was coming for that person… just like no help was coming for you who were the last one left in your world.

“There you are!” Dean Winchester was walking up the small hillock, a wicker basket in his hand. He looked damn good in that leather jacket, the sunlight making his hair glint golden.

You gave Jo a questioning look and she smiled guilty. “I uhhh… arranged for a surprise picnic for us. Dean offered to get us sandwiches.”

You wanted to feel annoyed with her. The last thing you needed was to pretend to smile for company. Dean had been exceptionally kind to you, but you didn’t want to make him a victim of your isolation driven lethargy.

“Hey,” Dean said, his eyes softening when he saw you. “How’re you doing?”

“I’m fine, thank you,” you said automatically.

He pushed the wicker basket towards you. “Jo said you liked muffins. Now, we tried baking some, but they come with health warnings.”

“We?”

“Sammy and I,” he said, jerking his head sideways. You saw Sam coming up the hillock with a thermos in his hand. 

You sat up straight. 

You hadn’t seen Sam since your return to Lawrence for good and felt a bit ashamed about how you had behaved at the funeral, clinging to him the way that you had throughout the night. The brothers had walked you to the house and stayed over along with Ellen and Jo. They had left with Jo before you were up the following morning.

Ellen had stayed with you for the better part of that week, helping you tie the loose ends. She absolutely refused to leave till you agreed to come with. After a while of resisting her, you had given in. Who was left here for you anyway?

After returning to Lawrence, you mostly locked yourself in the room, rereading the books you had bought with you. It was immature and highly inappropriate to be this unhelpful in someone else’s house, but you couldn’t bear the pitying looks in everyone’s eyes. Sam had come by once or twice. You had pretended to be asleep each time after hearing his voice downstairs. 

Now, you didn’t have a choice but to talk to him.

“We’ve already pulled out the _death by muffins_ , I see,” he said, sitting down next to his brother. He looked up and your heart almost leapt out of your chest. You had forgotten just how good-looking he was… and then when he was looking at you like that…

“We tried, Y/N,” Sam said apologetically. “We really did. Asked the recipe from Karen and all, but they just taste weirdly bitter.”

“It’s too much chocolate,” Jo said, wrinkling her nose as she took a small bite out of one innocent looking muffin.

“Here, you wanna try some?” Sam offered, looking so hopeful that you automatically took it from him. When your fingers touched his, it felt electric. 

It was awful. The bitterness wasn’t the rich bitterness of chocolate. It was excess baking soda. It left the insides of your mouth feeling desiccated.

“Well, you’re officially the bravest person I’ve ever met,” Dean declared, his face twisted in absolute disgust. “What did you eat the full thing for?”

“It’s not that -”

“Bad?” Dean asked, revolted. “It’s disgusting. Satan’s rear end tastes like that. We only brought them with us to see we could feed them to the ducks! Sammy and I bet money on that.”

He looked so horrified that you laughed with a mouthful of the muffin, the crumbs sputtering out of your mouth, in all their caustic horribleness. Once the laughter broke out, a fit overtook you and you fell back into the soft grass laughing till tears rolled down the sides of your eyes.

“You guys suck at baking,” you coughed in between the chortles.

“Yeah, Y/N is our resident baker. Her cakes and cookies are to die for!” Jo lauded. You punched her in the arm lightly to stop her from praising you.

“Maybe you can teach us,” Sam said, and there was an undercurrent to his voice, warm and inviting. 

“Alright you crazy kids hang around here with the basket,” Jo said. “We’re heading out for a while to the diner. There’s a couple of things we have to pick up for mom. Don’t hog the muffins.”

You sat up straight, realising that laying around like that wasn’t displaying any sense of propriety.

“Will you be alright?” Jo asked, worry lining her forehead.

“Yes, don’t worry about me.”

Jo still looked concerned as she walked down the hillock and disappeared from view.

You closed your eyes, and before Sam could utter a word, said, “Listen, I’m really sorry about how I behaved at the- the funeral. It was anything but appropriate to put you through that. I’m really sorry.”

When Sam didn’t say anything, you opened your eyes, albeit reluctantly. 

He was staring into the distance, not at you. When he finally spoke, you couldn’t place the tone of his voice. “Is that really how you feel?”

“What do you mean?”

He regarded you closely, the wind ruffling his hair. “I was under the impression that me being there helped you- even if just a bit. But if all it did was make you feel sorry, then maybe I shouldn’t have come.” 

“It did help me,” you said quickly. “Really. The mere thought that there was someone who wasn’t there because they _had_ to be there was more help that I can even begin to explain. I mean Aunt Ellen and Jo are family, and though they didn’t know Gran too well, they still had at least some level of obligation to be there. And it was so thoughtful of Dean to drive Jo. But not a single person was there only and only for me, except you. Trust me, you got me through that evening.”

“Then why are you sorry?” He asked, perplexed. Though he appeared relieved at the same time.

“Because,” you said, resigning to finally saying it out loud. “It doesn’t justify clinging to you like that. It was really kind of you to come, but I think I overstepped my boundary.”

“Y/N,” Sam said, placing his hand on top of yours. “I didn’t come there from the kindness of my heart. I came because I was worried about you. It was driving me crazy thinking about how you were. I had to make sure with my own two eyes that you were okay. I’ve known you for what, a week? And even then, drove all the way across Kansas to just see you! And you think you overstepped boundaries?”

“As wrong as it sounds, I was really glad to see you. I don’t regret a minute of having you next to me. I think it kept me standing throughout the dinner,” you said in a low voice, not meeting his eyes. “The next day a few women brought casseroles over and they asked about you. I didn’t know what to tell them.”

“Not that you needed to tell them anything, because it was none of their business,” Sam said through gritted teeth, “But aren’t we, at least, friends?”

_At least._

People didn’t want to kiss their friends, and you wanted to kiss Sam. Very Much.

“Thank you for being there, Sam,” you said, instead of replying to the question. “It meant a lot to me. It still means a lot to me.”

“What’re you going to do now?”

You shrugged. “Hope for an acceptance and then apply for a student loan. Then I can get out of Ellen’s hair.”

Sam braced himself against the smooth grass with his other hand- the one not laying over yours- resting it behind his back. This way, his torso stretched out, his t-shirt hitching up just a bit to reveal his belt. You tried your best not to look. 

“You know Ellen and Jo don’t think like that,” Sam reasoned. “Jo was so worried about you. She still is.”

You sighed. “I know she is. This isn’t them. I’m just not comfortable. I just miss Gran so much, and I hate that I wasn’t there for her. I know I couldn’t have done anything to prevent it. It was a stroke and it was instantaneous, but I just can’t help feeling guilty… like if I had been there, I could have stopped it somehow. “

Sam didn’t say anything to contradict your words, didn’t try to oppose you in any way or tell you how you shouldn’t be feeling this way. He knew that one couldn’t control the way they felt. He simply put his hand on your shoulder, something he had done a lot that other evening. It was comforting and more familiar than it should have been. Your body simply accepted his touch now. 

“She left the house to my name, or so a lawyer told me. He said I should sell it and use the money for college. I don’t want to sell it like it was a shack that didn’t mean anything to anyone. I want to keep it and turn it into a bakery one day, so someone who loves baking as much as Gran did can run it one day.”

You didn’t understand why you were telling him any of this. Maybe because you knew Sam wouldn’t preach or discredit any of your words. He simply listened. Listened and understood, not just what was spoken but also that which was left unsaid. He stroked the back of your hand with his thumb, the feel of his skin on yours felt calming.

“So what did you bet on?” You said after several moments of silence, raising the muffin from hell and waving it in front of him.

“That the ducks would eat it.” His mouth quirked up. “I don’t have high hopes, though.”

“We should at least try,” you suggested. “Ducks are vicious creatures. They just might eat it.”

The ducks did not eat it.

You tried throwing small pieces into the little pond in the park, and Sam tried chasing them much to your entertainment, but the ducks were smarter than you gave them the credit for.

“Blood fiends,” you glared as a couple of them flew off. 

“You don’t like ducks?” He asked, amused.

“I was 6 when a duck attacked me. They are monsters.”

Sam laughed as the two of you made your way to the bench in the park. It was the same bench where he had taken you the first time you had met him. You could see the bar across the shrubbery in the distance. 

When you looked back at Sam, his cheeks were slightly pink and so were the tips of his ears.

“Hey,” he said, his hand tucking his hair behind his ear. “Do you want to go out for dinner sometime?”

“Like a date?” You asked, surprised.

He licked his lips. “Yeah. Like a date.”

Sam was clearly nervous about this, absurdly more than you were. “That sounds nice,” you said.

“How about Saturday?” He asked, then laughed a short laugh. “I mean. I would have wanted to go sooner but I’m flying out of town.”

“It sounds great.”

Then he said those words that made your heart melt. “Y/N, I can’t wait for Saturday.”

* * *

“Damn, woman! You can bake.” Meg came hovering out of her room still in her pajamas. “ _This_ is what heaven smells like.”

You smiled at her over the fresh batch of cookies you had pulled out of the oven.

“Y/N! It smells like a Bakery in there. What are you doing?” 

It was Kevin, shouting from the balcony. 

“Come out here!” He yelled, and Meg opened the glass doors of the balcony wide.

“In a minute!” You shouted back, replacing the tray with a new one in the oven and adjusting the dials. 

Both Jack and Kevin were in the window, looking like they had just woken up. Even the undergrads seemed to be out on their balconies downstairs. You could hear the muttering.

“I’m baking cookies for everyone,” you announced, leaning against the railing.

“And by everyone, you mean…?” Asked Meg.

“Just everyone,” you waved your hand vaguely. “So far there’s 138 and counting. I’ve been up since six.”

“You’re mental,” said Meg. 

“Those cookies were just for me!” Said Jack at the same time as her.

Pam, who was just entering the apartment from what must have been a night shift at the bar looked up at the assembled crowd. 

“What the hell?” She shouted. “Y’all are really this jobless first thing in the morning, huh?” Then she paused to sniff. “What’s that wonderful smell?”

“Y/N’s baking cookies for everyone.” Kevin was kind enough to provide her with an answer.

“Don’t you have better things to do than feed these idiots?” 

You grinned down at her. “There’s a whole batch for you.”

“Well, God bless your soul, you sweet child,” she said and disappeared under the awning.

You were sure to pack some cookies with you while leaving for the first day of your job. 

The Robert Crown Law library was starting to feel homely enough by this point, thanks to having spent so much of last week there for the Civil Procedure assignment. The Librarian on duty was supposed to overlap her shift with you for today and tomorrow, so you could be trained. Molly was sweet and really helpful. The library was fairly empty today. It was easier for her to run you through the bookshelves and their arrangement, the basics of handling the data centre and the ultra-systematic cataloging. Molly insisted that she take the desk duty for the day while you familiarized yourself with everything. Back when you had worked as the library assistant in TU, you had always considered yourself to be lucky to get paid for spending time amidst so many books. That hadn’t changed.

“We’re really lucky with the Law library,” said Molly. “The other libraries are a mess, especially the big ones. People keep calling there all the time, and even visitors are allowed without appointments. Law library only gets our usual crowd and very few people are a particular pain in the ass.”

Molly was a final year student. She had taken a break after her second year to backpack across Europe. Apparently she really didn’t have any anxiety whatsoever about her career. Whatever the case was, she was super chill.

“These cookies kick ass, by the way,” she hummed after taking a bite out of the one that you had offered. You smiled and bent down to retrieve the tags.

“How’s it going, Molly?” 

You stilled. 

“Sam!” You heard Molly squeal. “You’re back again? Spending an awful lot of time here these days, aren’t you?”

“Oh, it’s the loneliness,” he said in a mocking voice.

“Y/N, What’re you doing down there. Get up,” Molly called.

Slowly you got to your feet. 

Sam straightened like a rod at the sight of you. He was wearing flannel today over a pair of jeans, which shocked you because you were so not used to seeing him in anything except suits. It made him look so young. Not like _your_ Sam, or the professor you distanced yourself from, but painfully somewhere in between.

“Sam, this is Y/N. She’s the new odd-shifts librarian,” Molly introduced cheerfully. “Y/N, this is Sam Winchester. Does he teach you?”

She turned to Sam. “Do you teach her?”

“Uhh-”

“Oh, of course you don’t remember her name, even if you do teach her. It’s been like two weeks,” she prattled on. “Do you take a class for the first year?”

“Civil procedure,” he said curtly, not sparing you a single glance. Then he spoke to Molly. “Can you grab that book I was reading yesterday? I think I asked you to keep that one aside.”

“Sure. Here,” She handed him a Code violation handbook from under the table. He promptly turned away from the table, heading straight for a bench that did not have a view of the Librarian’s desk.

It hurt. It hurt like a whiplash each time he ignored you. Pretended that you didn’t exist. And it sucked that you couldn’t even blame him for it.

“Isn’t he amazing?” Molly sighed after Sam.

“Sure,” you muttered, going back to retrieving the cards.

“It’s not unusual for professors to be here, but Sam’s been spending an awful lot of time in the library since the past few weeks. I wonder what’s up.”

You avoided the whole section of the library where Sam sat, sticking to the computers and going through the database cataloging. It wasn’t long before Sam was back at the table. 

“Actually, can I take this book to go?” He asked.

“Leaving already?” You heard the thrumming of keys as Molly entered the book’s name in the directory of issued books.

You did not turn around to peep, and the desk was almost out of earshot anyway.

“That’s it, then?”

“Thanks, Molly.”

“Hey, you want to grab a cookie before you leave?”

“Sure!” 

You heard the crumbling sound of the wrappers and then a crunch.

There was a pause. In an almost imperceptible voice, so low that you had to strain your ears to hear it, Sam said, “Tell her these are lovely.”

Blood rushed to your ears, and you did not hear the rest of the interaction. You didn’t even go back to the desk again till the end of the shift. By the time you returned, all the cookies were gone and Molly was humming to herself softly, completely having forgotten about passing on the compliment. She waved at you as you left for the day and you waved back absentmindedly.

_Tell her these are lovely._

He knew. He just knew.


	7. Chapter 7

** 14th August 2008 **

It was the third time you were looking into the mirror, straightening the pleats of your dress and smoothening your hair. It absolutely refused to behave today. 

“Y/N!” Jo yelled from downstairs. “Sam’s here!”

Your heart beat reacted to the news before the rest of your body. You stared numbly at the reflection in the mirror and it stared back at you stupidly.

Sighing, you picked up the coat which you had washed and pressed, and folded it on your arm.

Sam met you at the base of the staircase just like the last time. 

“You-” he started to say; in your nervousness you cut him off. “I’m just gonna tell aunt El and Jo that we’re heading out.”

Your aunt was at the table chopping onions and Jo was grinning at you widely over the top of her book.

Ellen smiled, “Have a great time,” she said, then a little louder. “You have her home by ten, Samuel.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sam made a big deal out of bowing.

Jo winked at him and mouthed ‘hot stuff,’ which you weren’t supposed to see but did anyway and blushed.

“Where are we going?” You questioned, as Sam opened the door to his brother’s car for you.

“There’s really only one good place in the town,” he said apologetically. “Dean felt so bad about it that he even lent me the Impala. That way I can at least notch up some impression.”

You laughed and he gave you a winning look. The sort of look one would have on their face if they came across a twenty dollar bill out of the blue.

“How’re you holding up?” He asked, averting his eyes from the road just for a bit to look at you.

“I’m okay,” you answered, honestly. “I miss her awfully, and I feel lost sometimes, though the more I think about it, the more I feel relieved that she passed away peacefully and painlessly.”

She had been happy till the last day of her life, and you were trying to draw some peace out of that. Gran would have wanted you to.

“Here,” You handed him his coat, as you stepped out of the car in front of the restaurant. It was the same one that he had offered you on the day of the average birthday. You had never gotten around to return it.

Sam didn’t take it. “You hold on to it a little longer for me,” he said with a cryptic smile.

The restaurant was crowded, as was expected out of a Saturday night. The hostess met you at the door and when Sam gave her his name, she led you to a corner table. Sam pulled your chair for you like a true gentleman and then nudged the menu towards you.

You took a look at it, ordering the first thing that appeared familiar; some type of red sauce pasta. The table had lovely roses in a vase, with water sprinkled on them like dews. Underneath the vase and over the table was an expensive looking lace tablecloth. 

“You’re very quiet,” Sam said after a while. “What’re you thinking?”

“This,” you gestured towards the table in front of you and the restaurant in general. “I’ve never done this before.”

He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

He really didn’t know. “I come from a small town, Sam. We didn’t have fancy restaurants there. Just one crappy diner and few take outs, and I’ve lived there all my life. In fact, the only few times I went to a city was to Topeka; once with Aunt El when I was thirteen and then a couple of times with a neighbour, to help my Gran with some bakery stuff. I’ve just never been to a fancy restaurant before.”

It baffled you that Sam even wanted to date someone like you who knew so little about the world, when he had been to Stanford and then to Yale and New York. What could he possibly hope to find in common with you? 

You were expecting him to look at you funnily. Instead, you found wonder in his eyes. 

“Yet, you wanted to apply to universities so far away?”

You looked down at where his hands lay on the table, and nervously placed yours over his. At first his hand jerked, as if he hadn’t expected it, but then flattened against the table top, allowing you to cover it with yours.

“My dad was a lawyer,” you said. “First person from that town to ever actually get out and get a degree, and Gran was so proud of him. I don’t remember much, but I remember him getting smartly dressed in the morning and mom picking a tie for him and tying it around his neck. Every morning she would do that, and every morning he would swoop her in his arms and kiss her.”

The waiter arrived with your food, and you quickly jerked your hand back. Sam looked bereft at the loss of contact. He didn’t press you for conversation though. 

The spaghetti was good; mouthwateringly so and you worried about how much it cost. You wanted to split for the dinner, and there was just so much money you had. You were hoping that the food wasn’t so expensive that you wouldn’t be able to pay. Sam had ordered what looked like a somewhat unappealing salad. You wanted to offer him your spaghetti but weren’t sure if that was against the etiquette.

Uhhggg curses to the small town upbringing. You knew nothing about this sort of thing, or even how to talk to boys. Maybe telling them on the first date about how woefully limited your knowledge was of the world was actually a bad idea.

You were hell-bent on making it worse.

“When I said I’ve never done this before,” you said slowly, rolling the fork in your spaghetti. “I also meant that I’ve never been on a date before.”

“What?” His fork clattered into the bowl, the shock clear on his face. 

Maybe now you had done it. You still wanted to clear it up. “I just- I don’t want you to think I’m super cool or something, when I’m not,” you stressed. “I don’t want you to have any expectations from me that I won’t be able to live up to.”

“Y/N,” he said. “It’s not like that. I’m just surprised that I’m lucky enough to be the first person who had actually managed to convince you into going out with him. Can’t say I’m feeling too sorry about all the poor souls who didn’t get the chance.” He grinned. 

He was just so good with words. It did relieve you of some of your worry. 

“Seriously,” he insisted. “Please don’t think that. All week I was worrying if you had changed your mind.”

How could you not think like that? He was the male model adonis type, from the big city and you were just so inexperienced. Sure a couple of guys in high school had asked you out, but no one had ever appealed to you the way Sam had. There was just something about him that was reassuring, like he would never break your heart. Like nothing could ever go wrong when he was around. When he was gone, however, the worry that he didn’t feel the same way about you started to seep in.

You ate the rest of your dinner quietly, feeling a bit stupid. Way to ruin your first date. 

Afterwards, Sam absolutely denied splitting the bill even when you insisted. You noticed that he also tipped the waiter well.

You were upset with yourself as you walked out of the restaurant. After dreaming for days about how amazing it would be to finally go out with Sam, you had gone ahead and made a mess of it. Worrying about what must be going on in his mind, you turned towards the parking lot.

“Hey, you mind if we walk back?” Sam asked in an unsure voice. “Dean’s close-by and he always keeps a set of keys, he’ll drive the car back home.”

“Sure.”

It was cold outside, and the thin-strapped dress you were wearing was not helping with the wind at all. So you unrolled Sam’s coat and pulled it over, regretting that unlike the last time, it wasn’t smelling like him. He saw you rolling the sleeves up and smirked.

As you stepped onto the pavement, Sam offered you his hand and you took it gladly. Maybe the whole evening wasn’t ruined.

“Sorry I’m making you walk,” Sam confessed. “I didn’t want the night to end just yet. I feel like I’ve been a terrible date tonight.”

_What?_

“I had a great time!” You protested.

“Did you? Really?” He looked chagrined. “I am still being terrible. I wanted to tell you how beautiful you looked the moment I saw you on the stairs; I didn’t. In fact you are the most beautiful girl I’ve _ever_ met. I didn’t tell you that, either.”

You bit your lip, unsure of what to say. This felt unreal… not just because of his words, but because of how dazed he sounded.

“That’s not the only reason why I like you though,” Sam said hurriedly, as if he was scared of offending you. “It’s because you are one of the bravest people I know. Seeing you hold yourself at your Grandmother’s funeral, after losing everything… It was the hardest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do.”

You had stopped walking. The two of you were simply standing in the middle of the sidewalk, hands interlocked.

“And you’re so bright, so ambitious. Despite every shit hand that you’ve been dealt, you want to make something of your life. You have goals and a desire to prove yourself. How could I not want to be with you?” His eyes were melting, and so were you inside.

“Beyond that, you are kind and patient,” he said. “And I never told you any of it. I thought of it, over and over and yet I never said a word. So of course I’m a bad date.”

He was standing so close now, close enough that you could feel his warm breath on your face. You moved closer still and closed your eyes.

“What is it?” He asked softly. “Is it something I did? What aren’t you telling me?”

You placed your hands on his arms, more to steady yourself than anything. “I’ve never felt this way before, Sam,” you admitted. “I think of you all the time when I’m not with you, and when I’m with you, I feel giddy with happiness. I guess, I’m just scared that one day you’ll wake up and not find me interesting anymore.”

“Have you considered for a second that maybe I’m scared, too?” He asked. You opened your eyes and looked directly into his unearthly ones. They were reflecting the same need you felt, a strange and unknown hunger to touch, lean in just a bit closer and…

You gave in to that instinct just as he did, your lips colliding with each other’s. Sam was gentle at first, hesitant as he pressed his full lips against your bottom lip, drawing out the moment, but there was something desperate within you. You raised your hands and snaked your fingers through Sam’s hair- they were just as soft as you had imagined them to be- and dragged your teeth along his lower lip. Sam moaned into your mouth and his whole body shuddered. His muscled arms wrapped around your waist hoisting you up and he gave up on all attempts to be gentle, following your lead.

This was happening, you were actually kissing Sam. A giggled escaped you, and Sam pulled back, reluctance clear on his face.

“What?” He asked, face flushed, lips parted. You didn’t answer him, diving right into another kiss.

“One other thing,” Sam mumbled against your lips. “Of all the things that I should have said already, and I didn’t, I’m not going to hold back this one. It could be years and years from now, but I would never not find you interesting. I’ll never not want to just keep looking at you.”

* * *

** Sam’s POV: **

“What the hell are you still doing here?” Jody asked, coming to stop over him.

“I ask myself that question everyday,” Sam said, without looking up from his laptop.

He could feel Jody roll her eyes. “Stop being a smartass. I meant aren’t you supposed to be at work?”

Sam read through the last line and closed the file. In fact, he took his time to push away the laptop, then remove his glasses, clean them with the tip of his tie, before looking at his now colleague. Jody had been a new addition to the faculty when Sam had been a student here. She had been one of his favourite professors then. Now, she was staring down at him with amusement in her eyes.

“I don’t have to go in today,” Sam said. “Chase said he’ll fill in at the hearing. I can just look over the papers from here.”

“If I didn’t know better,” she said sitting down next to him. “I’d think you were finding reasons for sticking around.”

Sam did a double take, “What? What makes you say that?” Surely she didn’t mean it.

Jody laughed. “I’m kidding. What’s got your panties in a twist? Loosen up.”

“It’s just that I’m not used to being alone. And I worry about him all the time,” he sighed.

“You know what you need?” She said, “You need alcohol in your life! Make the most of the alone time. He’s a good kid, you know that. He can take care of himself.”

“I know,” Sam said, feeling lame.

“Seriously, what’re you doing Friday evening?”

Sam didn’t even pretend to consider. He didn’t have a social life. “Nothing much.”

“We’re getting you that alcohol.”

“Sure.”

“If you’re sticking around,” she said too nicely, “Why don’t you help me grade the assignments?”

“Yeah, no thank you,” Sam said firmly. “I got enough of my own and you’re not dragging me into your bundle.”

Jody tried to smack him, but Sam ducked to the side, grinning.

“Eh, it’s not that bad,” she waved her hand. “The fresh batch is actually pretty impressive. I heard you let them off easy with just a case brief for an assignment.”

“I figured with you guys setting up the heavy essays, I’d let it slide this time.” He stood up to gather his files.

“It’s not the only thing I heard,” Jody said, eyes on the papers in her hand. “Your TA, Paul, said you were particularly happy about one girl’s brief. What was her name again?”

Sam swore internally. “Y/N. Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N.”

She turned around to look at him with a raised eyebrow. “You remember the names already.”

He gave a noncommittal shrug. She didn’t press. “I actually checked through my stack for her essay, and what do you know! She’s actually gifted.”

Sam already knew that. He tried his best to not show it by attempting to look busy with his bag.

“It’s really funny,” Jody continued, looking at him curiously. “You know who her writing reminded me of? 

“Who?” He asked, already dreading the answer.

“You.”

“Really?” Sam said hurriedly packing his things.

“It’s actually quite weird,” Jody mused. “The same style of paraphrasing. And I’d know. You were one of my first students, and good, too.”

All packed, Sam turned and smiled tightly at her. “I’m _still_ your favourite, though.”

“That you are, Winchester,” she winked. “Heading to the library again?”

“Yeah, I gotta return a book,” he said grimly.

Thankfully, it was only 4:30 and Molly was at the desk. It would be another hour and a half before her shift ended. She gave him a bright smile as he placed the book on the desk. “I need a huge favour,” he said urgently. “Can you quickly pull out the Development Control and Promotion regulations for San Jose? I need a specific hard copy. There are yellow tags on the pages.”

“Right up.” 

Molly disappeared into the shelves and Sam congratulated himself on finding a quiet place to go through the references for the case he was working on, where no would quiz him about his past life. The solution for the case was in semantics, he knew that. It was still a lot of research and he needed to verify what his junior had sent him.

“Here you go,” Molly handed him the exact copy he had been working out of on Friday. “I don’t know why the hell you’re still living in the 90’s with paper tags, but to each his own.”

“Molly, you’re a lifesaver!”

She blew him a kiss and he went off to the farthest corner of the library. Sam had discovered this spot when he was a student here. No one ventured this far back, and it was well hidden from view.

He set up his laptop and got to work. It was all there. In bits and parts he put together a pretty good defense for his client. It did help that the client was wrongly accused of property damage to begin with, and the timeline of how things had gone down worked in his favour. Before he knew it, he had a rejoinder of his own ready to go for the next hearing. 

Sam stretched his arms, and looked up to see that it was dark outside. Already? 

He flicked his wrist to look at the watch. It was quarter past 7. Where had the time flown?

Sam craned his neck sideways to look at the librarians desk and there she was in front of the computer, looking intently into the screen. From here, Sam couldn’t see Y/N’s face. Just her profile. She wore a pale grey t-shirt and jeans underneath, not what she had worn to class today morning. Sam hated the fact that he noticed as well as remembered what she was wearing each day. He forced himself to look down and concentrate on the work at hand. He just had to phrase the concluding statements and it would be done. However, all the force that had been driving him for the past few hours seemed to disappear just like that. Try as he may, he got stuck on simple words. Soon he had read the same line five times. It didn’t help that he kept stealing glances at her.

This wasn’t like class, where he had so many eyes trained on him, where he was obligated to deliver a perfect lecture. No one was watching him now, which made it thousand times harder to keep his eyes off her.

She was busy working, completely unaware of his presence. Hadn’t she spent the past years like that? Completely unaware of what was happening with him. Anger burned bright and new within him. When he had read the brief about the Weather man case, he was already impressed before seeing who had written it. _It had to be her!_ Sam had fought with himself over announcing her name in front of the whole class. But if it had been any other student, he’d have praised them, right? So he had to be fair and praise her, too. Never-mind that the words would burn on their way out. He had swallowed his feelings and done what was right.

Every little thing about her, may it be those cookies, or running into her in the corridors affected him to the point where it was all he could think about for the rest of the day. So had he been under the wrong impression all this time? Had he not moved on at all?

Y/N was still engrossed in her work, but as Sam looked closely, he soon realised that she was rubbing the nails of her hands against each other. Her feet were drawn up on the chair, under her legs and her shoulders were hunched. He squinted and could make out the slight shivering of her frame. She was cold.

He looked away. It wasn’t his problem. Y/N was hypersensitive to cold. She knew that very well, and made it a point to carry sweaters. If she was indeed that cold, she could just pull on one. 

Sam went back to his rejoinder, typing out two more sentences of the conclusion. However, his eyes kept flitting towards her, as she rubbed her hands. Y/N smiled at the people who came by, asking for books. By this point it wasn’t hard to see that her lips were quivering, maybe her teeth were chattering, too. There was no sweater nearby. 

There were so many reasons that stopped him from helping her. So many. And for all his anger and seething, all Sam wanted to do was go over and hug her so tight that she would stop shaking. He couldn’t. It wasn’t his place to do that anymore.

Sam’s fingers balled into fists in frustration and helplessness, nails digging into the flesh of his palms painfully.

Just then a girl came wandering over. She looked in her teens and Sam wondered what she was doing here. 

“Are you from the college?” Sam asked her, certain that he had never seen her before.

The girl gawked at him. “I’m seventeen, dude!”

Sam didn’t care what she was doing here, but the timing couldn’t have been more perfect. “Hey, if it’s not too much to ask, please could you help me with something?”

** Reader’s POV: **

It had been a slow morning and an even slower afternoon. After Professor Mcleod’s class, the last one for the day ended, you decided to duck back to the apartment for a while. Madison asked you to hang out with her afterwards, but the thought of hanging out with Brad and the rest of that girl gang, didn’t appeal to you much. You had thought that you’d get over their raving about Sam, but the more you listened the harder it got. Neither could you say anything. You didn’t own Sam. So it was better to avoid them as much as you could for the sake of your own mental peace.

Since it was only two, you could actually catch some sleep before heading for the night shift which started at 6 pm and ended at 2 am. Usually everyone emptied out the library by then. You could clock in an extra hour if someone wanted to stay back. There was a Librarian’s room which you could use to catch your sleep, but from having worked two nights, you figured it was better to walk back home and grab a few hours in your own bed before classes. What was the point of living so close if you weren’t going to make the most of it?

The apartment building was too quiet and empty at this hour on a Tuesday. The only other people were Pam and Cas, both knocked out after the night shift. Even Kevin had to show up at work today. You contemplated whether to start reading for college but decided against it and headed to bed instead.

It turned out to be a bad idea, because given your track record of not waking up to the alarm lately, you slept on till the front door banged open. You sat up straight, disoriented. 

“Y/N?” Meg called, uncertainly. “You’re home?”

“Sure am,” you answered through a thick throat. Like an idiot you had fallen asleep in your morning clothes and were sweaty and icky now. 

Meg appeared at the door of your room. “Whoa, you’re sleeping! I thought you’d be at work.”

“Why would I be at work,” you said, sleepily, turning to the clock. “It’s only- 5:45! Shit!”

You jumped out of the bed and ran straight for the shower. 

“Doesn’t your shift start at 6?” Meg shouted from outside. She sounded amused and it only worked you up as you stripped at a super speed and got into the shower. The water was cold and it was all you could do to not yelp at the sting of it on your skin. Thankfully, Meg hadn’t stuck around in the living room, when five minutes later you made a beeline for your room wrapped in just one towel. At least you didn’t have to worry about what to wear this time. A pair of jeans and any top would do. On your way out, you grabbed your bag, laptop and keys.

“Meg, I’m so sorry I didn’t cook. I was just so tired, I fell asleep.”

Meg, who was filling her nails with what looked like a pen knife, gave you an incredulous look.

“Y/N, fuck dinner! I might just go out anyway,” she said, shaking her head. “You go go go!”

You muttered a thanks and then sprinted at full speed, coming to stop seven minutes later in front of the library.

Molly was fixing the slips for the day. 

“Molly, I’m so sorry- “

“Save it,” Molly waved her hand. “It’s just 6 o five.”

“Yeah okay,” you sat down, catching your breath.

“Hey listen,” Molly said, “There’s a few kinds from Palo Alto high school. They’re visiting with their teacher. That woman you see-” she pointed towards a middle aged woman who was breathing down a teenage boy’s neck- “that’s her. The kids are well behaved, but they’ll stick around till dinner. You think you can manage?”

“Sure, I can do that!” 

“Good luck,” she gave you a thumbs up before leaving.

As had become your unwitting habit lately, the moment you were free of a conscious thought, your mind went to Sam. He had been so frequent to the library before- Molly had been clear about that- but since your joining, he had not shown up once. Maybe your face was still that repulsive to him.

Feeling dejected, you slid your bag under the table, plugged your laptop on charging and settled into the seat, ready to go through the night’s tasks. It didn’t take you longer than five minutes to figure out that you had left your sweater at home in all the hurry to get here. Suddenly, the conditioned air in the room felt ten times colder and you grabbed your arms, hugging yourself. Oh, this was going to be a terrible evening. You briefly contemplated calling Meg, then remembered that she might have gone out for dinner, and both Kevin and Jack were out. Even Pam and Cas would have returned to their night shifts by now. 

You would have to sit through this. 

The high school teacher came over and introduced herself, then pointed at the seven kids she had brought with her. You barely managed to listen to what she was saying though, trying your best to warm yourself by chaffing your hands against your arms. 

“Hey, you think you can grab a copy of Lord of the rings for me?” One of the kids asked, coming up to you.

You forced a smile. “I’ll have to check if we have that one. We d-don’t stock too much fiction here. You would find multiple editions of it in the Central Librar-ry th-though.” 

You typed in Tolkien in the catalogue. Somehow one copy was still there.

Shivering, you turned back to look at the boy. “We have t-two towers. If you’ll give me a minute, I can get it for you.”

Breathing in and out of your mouth, you walked to the shelf and retrieved the book for him.

“Here you go,” you said. “Be sure you h-hand it in b-before you go.”

Maybe you should call Meg anyway, you thought. There was no way you could get through the night like this with nails turning blue and your teeth chattering.

“Hey!”

One of the school girls was standing before you with a blank expression on her face. “Here.” She put down bunched up fabric in front of you.

Thoughtlessly you took it, unfolding it to realise that it was, in fact, a grey coat. The sort that was part of a three piece suit. You ran your fingers over the fabric. It was soft and expensive, but felt so warm.

“Put it on!” The girl said. “You look like you’re about to faint.”

You held up the coat. “W-Who gave this to you?”

“That dude sitting at the back,” she said. “He asked me to give this to you. That’s all I know.”

You twisted your torso to glance at the table the girl had pointed to. It was empty. 

Strange.

You put on the coat nevertheless, shivering violently as the fabric began to contain the body heat. Soon enough you stopped shaking completely, the warmth reminding you of happier, easier times. You walked around the corner to see who it was, but there was no one there. Shrugging you pulled the coat closer around, inhaling deeply. The scent of his cologne hit you like a ton of bricks. 

It couldn’t be.

You took a look at the coat again, remembering what Sam had been wearing in the morning. It was a grey suit- in fact, this very grey. Without thinking, you rushed back to the very end, looking for him, but he was most definitely gone, leaving you with his borrowed warmth. You sank in your chairs, tears blurring your vision. 

Sam was here… and he still cared.


	8. Chapter 8

“Someone had an interesting night,” Meg commented salaciously as you entered the apartment, eyeing the grey coat you were clutching tightly against your body.

Why she was up at two-thirty in the morning was a question you had stopped asking. It was how things were. She camped out in the living room most nights.

It had been a long night consisting of overthinking and multiple efforts to not break-down in the middle of a library. Now, your head was hurting from it. 

“That looks expensive,” she whistled, eager for your reply.

She did not get one. 

Tonight, you did not have the strength to explain anything. 

“Meg,” you said heavily. “Is it okay if I sleep on the couch, tonight? I- I don’t think I can fall asleep by myself.” 

“Sure.” She got up to make space for you, dragging her books with her on the carpet.

You removed your shoes and fell onto the sofa, rolling on one side and hugging your knees.

The coat had mostly stopped smelling like him, except for those faint traces and you clung to those forcefully.

Meg had a habit of reading out loud when she was memorising text. You had once challenged her to read without moving her lips and she had failed miserably at it. Kevin still made it a point to bring it up every now and then to tease. 

Her lulling voice, soft in the background was very comforting to you as you closed your eyes. Tomorrow would bring more questions than answers, you knew that. For now, you didn’t want to think about any of it.

* * *

** 27th August 2008 **

There was a certain trepidation as you stood on the porch of his house, hand raised towards the bell. What were you even doing? So Sam and you had been out for a couple more dates, that didn’t obligate him to spend every other day with you. So what if Ellen wasn’t home and Jo had a date. You could be by yourself for one evening, right? Restlessness shouldn’t be a motivator to land you in front of Sam’s house at seven in the evening. 

No, it was extremely impolite to barge into someone’s house without calling first. You fisted your raised, about to put it down, when the door opened. Dean Winchester stood on the other side, in his classic leather jacket, hands closed around the keys of his beloved car.

“Y/N!” He looked surprised at your unexpected appearance. Not that you blamed him.

You waved awkwardly. “I made muffins- remember, I promised I’d get you some on the day of the picnic?- and some apple pie. I was feeling keyed up and I thought I’d pay Sam a visit. I’m so sorry for showing up without notice, I know it’s not- “

“Y/N,” Dean cut you off. “Why’re you saying sorry? C’mon in!” He stepped aside to let you in, then grinned at you. “You had me at pie.”

The hallway was comfortably lit and paneled in dark wood, without any of those nonsense peony wallpapers that were a fad.”

“Aren’t you coming in as well?”

Dean shook his head. “I got a date with your cousin.”

Right. How stupid of you. You knew Jo was going out for a date… obviously it wouldn’t be by herself. 

“Sam’s in the living room, straight and left,” he said. “He can have all the muffins, but don’t let him touch that pie.” He winked at you before leaving.

You stared at the closed door, then at the basket in your hand. How had you managed to get yourself alone with Sam Winchester? There was still time for you to turn around and make a run for it, but the butterflies in your stomach kept pulling you towards the living room.

Sam was sitting cross legged on the sofa, bare feet, in a grey t-shirt and old jeans. Books were splayed around him, a laptop balanced on his right knee, eyes intently focused on the screen. From where you stood, you could only see his side profile and boy did he look handsome. The opportunity was too good to let go. You walked around quietly, placing the basket lightly on the floor and softly treaded to the back of the sofa. Slowly, you placed your hand on his eyes from behind. Sam jumped, the laptop almost crashing to the floor. His hand shot out reflexively to catch it, the other coming to rest over yours. 

“I’d recognise your hand anywhere,” he said.

“Dang it!”

He took hold of your wrist and pulled you around to the front, then tugged so you fell into his lap, the laptop lightly toppling on the sofa next to him.

“And to what do I owe the pleasure?” He whispered, one hand going around your waist, the other weaving into your cascading hair. You caught hold of his shoulders and dipped down to press your lips against his. The kiss was hot, passionate, as well as tender. Wherever his skin touched yours, the nerves were set on fire. Soon, you were gasping for breath. 

“The pleasure-” you breathed out, breaking the kiss, “- is all mine.”

Sam pecked the side of your face again, lips wet still. 

“I was literally just thinking about you,” he said, eyes staring at you in wonderment. “What’re you? A mind reader or something?”

You slid down slightly, so you were more comfortably seated in his lap. “Not a mind reader. I just missed you. I think I interrupted something important.”

He glanced at the ignored laptop. “Nevermind that. I was at wits end anyway.”

Normally, you would have jumped out of his lap. It felt so intimate to be sitting like this. However, Sam was snuggled so close to you, and so obviously unwilling to let go of you, that you didn’t make a move.

“What’re you up to?” You looked up at him.

“Remember when I told you I had to fly to New York, a few weeks back?”

“Yeah.”

“It was for an interview at this bigshot firm.”

You sat up. “Really? That’s great! How did it go?”

He frowned. “It went well enough. I heard from them yesterday. They are interested in hiring me as a junior associate.”

“But?” You could sense it was coming from the way his forehead furrowed.

“But, I don’t understand why they would wait for me to clear the bar and then join them. It’ll be a couple of months at least. It would have been easier to just reject me. I went for the interview because a senior from college set it up for me. I didn’t expect anything to come out of it.”

It was hard to believe that after everything he had achieved in life, he still had such self doubts. You attempting to tell him how exceptional he was would seem patronising, so you didn’t.

“Tell me something.” You snuggled closer and Sam automatically adjusted himself so accommodate you comfortably. “Do you want to work at this place?”

He looked at you and hesitated just for a second. In that moment you saw through him. It wasn’t the bar that was worrying him. He didn’t think that he couldn’t clear it. It wasn’t self doubt that was holding him back. It was reluctance. 

“It would be a good thing for my career.”

You decided not to push him on it.

“Then that’s that.” Reluctantly, you got up from his lap and straightened the laptop. “I have something for you.”

Sam perked right up.

You pulled out the muffins from the basket and handed him one, eagerly waiting for his response.

Sam moaned after the first bite. “These are delicious!”

Your gran was amazing at this, and you had taken up baking in your spare time now. It relaxed you to be around that aroma.

“Where’s the kitchen? I can put this in and leave, so you can continue with studying.”

Sam looked horrified. “No, no, don’t leave. Please!”

His eyes were wide, eyebrows just a little scrunched and lips almost moulded in a pout. The expression held some surprising power. It could crumble hearts.

You narrowed your eyes. “Are you… are you giving me puppy dog eyes?”

“Is it working?” He countered, a hint of teasing in his voice.

Like a frigging charm. You didn’t tell him that.

“Fine. I’ll stay, but you still gotta study, okay?”

Sam batted his eyelashes and you burst out laughing. “Now you’re just overdoing it. I’m just gonna put these in!” 

You wandered in the direction which he had pointed towards, wondering about how somehow that tall and built like a runway model could pull such an innocent expression. You put the pie in the fridge and the muffins in a box over the oven. The kitchen like the rest of the house was cozy and comfortable. 

On your way out you paid more attention to the rest of the room. At the far end there was a grand piano and behind it, a bookshelf in the same wood that panelled the hallway. You gravitated towards it. The piano looked polished, the keys slightly yellowed as if it was well played. The bookshelf was full of a crazy collection of books, from Kurt Vonnegut to Plato. Running your fingers over the spines, they stopped over a title. You pulled the book out.

“Sam?” You asked hopefully, returning to the sofa. “Can I borrow this book, please? My copy is still at Gran’s place and it’s my favourite. I swear I’ll treat it well.”

He flicked your wrist over to see which book it was, then shook his head indulgently. “Should have figured. Of course you can borrow it.”

“Thanks,” you smiled, flicking through the pages of the copy of _To kill a mockingbird._ “I was thirteen, I think, the first time I read it. Fell in love with Atticus.”

“I don’t think there’s a better fictional lawyer,” Sam mused. “It’s hard to live up to him.”

“Mhmm.”

Sam suddenly got up. “Where are my manners? Can I get you something? Coffee?” 

You took hold of his hand and dragged him down again. “I’m having trouble sleeping lately. Caffeine won’t help.”

His brow furrowed, however, he didn’t press you for a reason.

“How about I read to you from the NY Civil Code. That is interesting enough to put you to sleep for at least a week straight.”

You laughed. “It does look plenty interesting. You mind if I take a look at your notes?”

Sam spread his arms. “Knock yourself out.”

It was like being a child in a candy store, as you flipped through his books and notes. The text was complicated and the legal language seemed bafflingly difficult. There were bundles of notes in Sam’s thin, pointy handwriting. They looked very systematic even though you didn’t understand much. 

“It’s the basics of types of legal actions,” Sam supplied. “Difference between a plaint, suit, petition and a litigation.”

“What is it? What’s the difference?” 

Sam eyed you with some amusement. “You really want to know?”

“Mhmm.” This was something you had always wanted to talk about, but never had anyone to talk to. Of course you wanted to know more.

Sam flipped the pages of his book, till he found the one he was looking for.

“Alright,” he said, eyes bright with interest. “The easiest and most basic of all is a litigation. It simply means the process of taking any legal action. So, everything else, your suits, petitions, plaints and complaints, invariably everything falls under a broadly classified _litigation_. Now, a petition is a litigation filed to seek remedy in respect of any infringement of a constitutional right of the individual. The one who files it is the petitioner and the one it is filed against is the respondent. You with me so far?”

You nodded quickly.

Sam smiled. “Next one- and this is the one that’s going to make me money- is a suit or a lawsuit. The affected person files a suit in order to seek justice in respect of any civil right or claim they are entitled to. Here, the person who files the suit is referred to as the plaintiff and the persons against whom it has been filed is the defendant or the defendants, depending on the number of parties,” he cleared with a tilt of his neck.

Sam went on to tell you about the general magnitude of impact that both of them had once filed.

“So, a petition can be filed only against a government body, right? Because… only they can harm your constitutional right, cause they’re the ones who execute it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “You’re kinda right. Petitions; specifically writ petitions are filed against public bodies, yeah. And suits against private parties. You’re really quick, aren’t you? I’m impressed.”

You bit your lip. “It’s not like that, you’re just a really good teacher.”

“Am I now?” 

The way he said it and the way he was looking at you, reminded you once more that you were alone in the house with him. 

“You should consider teaching,” you said, wiggling your hands in your lap. “You’d make an awesome professor.” God help the poor students who would have to concentrate on his words while looking at him. You surely would never be able to manage that.

Looking up, you saw that Sam blushing furiously. 

He was so bad at taking compliments! It made you fall deeper in love with him.

You jerked back at that thought. Love? Did you love Sam Winchester?

He cleared his throat. “Anyway, There’s also Public Interest Litigations…”

The words were lost on you now, as you reeled in the realisation. Was this how it felt to be in love? To have those butterflies constantly assault your stomach, to have your breath taken away from you each time he so much as even looked at you? As intense as it all felt, it wasn’t a bad feeling. Not at all.

“… so no one really cares about them in the Supreme Court.”

“Uhh… yeah.”

“You’re sleepy, aren’t you?” Sam asked dubiously. “I did bore you with all the legal talk.”

“No… no,” you denied, but at the same time you yawned. 

Sam laughed. “That’s alright. You can just lie down here and rest.”

You tried to protest but Sam cut you off. “When Dean comes back, I can drive you home.”

You were sleepy, sure. but it wasn’t because the subject was boring. It was because of how relaxed you felt around him. 

Finally, you gave in, leaning into the sofa. Sam adjusted himself so that your head rested in his lap. 

“Earlier when you asked about NY, I wasn’t being completely honest with you,” Sam said after a while. “I’m not sure about this job, Y/N. I thought it was what I wanted, but that was _before._ ”

“What do you mean?”

His hand came to rest on your head, his fingers absently carding through your hair. 

“I thought a good job would make me happy. Coming back to Lawrence… It was like a wake-up call. It made me realise that the job would mean moving away from Dean for good. I mean with the way things are going with Jo, I’ll have to get my own place sooner or later anyway.”

You giggled. They did seem nauseatingly in love. It was all very cute.

“… then there’s you.” Sam’s voice was barely above a whisper. “I don’t want to lose what we have. I know you’ll be moving to a University soon, but you’ll return to Lawrence for your vacations, to your family, and I don’t want to lose out on that.”

You caught hold of his hand that was in your hair and brought it to your lips, kissing his palm. You noted with shyness that goosebumps erupted on his skin on the back of his hand..

“Sam, do you think I’ll want to visit Jo and aunt El, and not want to see you? I’ve been so winded all day today- because I hadn’t seen you for two days- that I had to barge into your house. We can make this work. Don’t you trust me?”

“Of course, I trust you. It sure is a novel feeling. I’ve never had the reason to trust anyone because I wasn’t afraid to lose them. I feel like I’ve opened myself up to you in pieces and now I can’t put them all back.”

Strange. He was rendering words to the exact emotion of your heart.

“It’s settled then. You prepare for the bar and who knows I just might land a college on the east coast. Maybe we’ll be closer than we think.”

He sighed wistfully. “Maybe.”

You let go of his hand. After lingering for a few seconds over your lips, then your cheek, his fingers went back to your hair.

It was a lovely feeling, the scrapping of his knuckles against the base of your hair.

“Read to me?”

“Civil procedure?” He chuckled.

“Sure,” you smiled snuggling against his side. When he started reading, it wasn’t the civil code.

“Chapter one,” Sam read. “ _When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow. When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury….”_

You smiled to yourself, listening to your favourite book being read out loud. Sam’s voice was deep, husky, and you closed your eyes, taking in the words till they lost their meaning, and only his voice remained, soft and comforting.

“Who plays the piano?” You remembered asking sleepily. 

“I do,” he replied, after a pause, then went back to reading.

You were long removed from consciousness and the voices must have been part of your dream, or just part of your imagination.

“At least carry her upstairs,” Dean was saying.

“No, she might wake up,” Sam said. “I’ll just get my pillow and sleep on the floor here. Will you let Jo know that she’ll be staying over?”

“Sure.”

It could have been seconds later or maybe hours; you felt a soft pressure against your temple, and a whispered prayer. “I love you.”

* * *

Your alarm woke you up at seven am sharp. Meg was nowhere to be seen in the living room and the door to her room was closed. However, a soft blanket- one that you didn’t recognise- was pulled over your body. You were touched by the gesture.

It might have been a dreamless sleep, but having spent the night on the sofa had sure taken a toll on your back, the stiff clothes leaving imprints on your body. You looked down at the coat you were still wearing. What were you going to do with it?

You were definitely more level headed now about what had happened last night; were able to look at it more objectively without your emotions wrecking you apart. This had to have happened just when you had somewhat accepted the fact that Sam didn’t care for you. It hurt; it hurt each time he averted his gaze from you, but you had learned to live with it, live around it. 

Now you didn’t know how to live with even an ounce of affection he showed you. How pathetic was that? You had gone back and forth with yourself last night over whether you were mistaken about whose coat it could be. Each time you found yourself arriving at the same conclusion. It was definitely Sam. The color, the scent, it was all him.

The next question that arose was what to do with the coat. You couldn’t keep it after making sure that you had almost nothing left from that life. Hell, you’d never be able to concentrate on anything except the coat if it stayed with you. You couldn’t throw it away. Even the thought caused you pain. That left you with only one option- returning it to Sam, which was a whole new matter… and raised so many mind boggling questions of its own.

How were you going to return it? How were you going to bring yourself up to look him in the eye and talk to him after everything that had happened? And even if you managed to do all those things, what if he outright refused to acknowledge that the coat was his? You didn’t think you could live through that. To guess his harshness was one thing, but to be proven of it by facing him was another.

He had steadfastly refused to look at you all this while, and so far it had worked out for you. What if he looked at you with such hatred that it erased every memory of his loving eyes. Could you live through that?

You put your head in your hands, feeling a hollow in your stomach. One thing was clear to you, the coat had to go, and it had to go today.

It was with a subdued but determined face that you took a seat in Sam’s lecture. As was the norm, he ignored you completely. When the lecture ended you hurriedly got up, clutching your satchel to your chest. It was bulging full.

“Y/N,” Madison called. “The next lecture is cancelled, where are you going?”

“I… er… I had some work,” you said. It was good enough for Madison, but not so much for the girls behind her, particularly Rebecca.

“You’re coming for the party, right?” Rebecca asked, too sweetly. “You know, Maddy’s birthday party.”

Shit. It had completely slipped your mind that the party was this weekend. You had promised Madison you’d go. The idea didn’t appeal to you one bit, though. You’d rather just hang out with the apartment gang, especially since you weren’t working this weekend.

“Of course she’s coming,” Madison said confidently. “Aren’t you, Y/N?”

“Yeah.” No way you could get out of it without hurting Madison. She had been nothing but kind to you. You had to pay it back somehow.

Madison gave you a charming smile. “We’ll have so much fun.”

You doubted that to the highest degree, but now was not the time to dwell over that. You waved and left the room quickly, before anyone could ask you where you were headed. 

With a trepidation that made you feel like you were existing outside your body, you walked towards where you knew Sam’s office was. You could feel your every heartbeat individually as if it was being hammered onto your ribcage. Something was painfully lodged in your throat. It hurt to swallow. At every step you wanted to turn around and run away. Too soon you were in front of his glazed glass door. In silver etched letters, it read:

_Prof. Samuel Winchester, J.D._

You knocked on the glass panel. Three quick raps. The ball of nervousness in your stomach made you want to throw up, but you held still.

“Come in,” came his voice from inside.

With shaking fingers, you pushed the door and stepped inside. The door closed behind you. Sam was writing something, a hand held up apologetically, asking for a moment. With a flourish, he finished the sentence and looked up with expectant eyes. It lasted for a split second before they widened in shock. The exact expression from your first day at Stanford, the same one that had haunted you ever since. Pure shock.

What would you even call him? Professor Winchester? _Sam?_ You weren’t sure if you still had that right on him.

He stood up, the chair scraping across the linoleum behind him. The sounds echoed even in the small room. The distance of a few feet felt like miles to conquer.

Mutely you pulled out the coat from your bag. It was unwashed and wrinkled. You walked up to his desk and offered it to him, eyes trained on the table. 

“Thanks,” you murmured.

For a horrified moment you thought he wouldn’t take it, but then he reached for it, gripping the fabric tightly and you let go, still looking down. 

You wanted to say something, anything because this silence, _his silence_ was agonising. No words came to you, though. There was too much to be said, and no sentence seemed enough. 

His desk was organised; books neatly stacked on one side, papers arranged along a single edge. Two frames stood on his desk with their backs to you, and you wondered if someone you recognised was in one of those frames, if they were the same ones that he used to keep on his bedside. A smiling picture of him and Dean. The pang returned at the thought of Dean, and everything that you had left behind.

Slowly, you turned your back to the desk and the man standing behind it, certain that he wanted nothing to do with you. The coat had been a lapse of judgement, a moment of pity for someone he used to know, but didn’t care for anymore. He was just a very kind person. That was all it had been. All your upheaval since, had been for nothing.

You grabbed the handle and twisted it.

“Y/N.”

You would have cried. You would have let go of that handle, slid to the ground and broken down in that moment. 

For years you had beaten yourself down to accept that this would never happen. You would never hear Sam speak your name ever again. Now, it was happening. What was more? there was no anger in his voice, no hint of disgust. 

You dropped your hand and turned, his voice, your name still reverberating in your ears.

Sam looked as taken aback by his words as you. As if they had left his lips without his conscious consent. His eyes were clear, brow slightly furrowed. There was no harshness in his expression and none of that sharpness or hate.

He bowed his head a bit, like he was acknowledging some kind of defeat. Then, he spoke, voice as comforting as the warmth of your favourite rug on a stormy evening. “How are you?”

_Like I haven’t truly breathed before this moment. Like the last six years without you, were a special torture created just for me. Like the very sight of you is a miracle and you saying my name a talisman against every misery I’ve ever lived. Like I haven’t been okay up until this very moment._

All the words that couldn’t be said. 

You merely shrugged, blinking rapidly to keep the tears from showing.

Sam dipped his chin and gave you a look that seemed to stare right into your soul, the side of his lips curving into a sad smile. 

Impossible. 

“H-how are _you?_ ” You whispered through a thick throat.

He shrugged, too, the smile still in place. It broke your heart to see a look of such profound sadness on his face.

You took a subconscious step ahead, wanting to run to him and throw your arms around him. What’s the worst that could happen? He would push you back? It still wouldn’t hurt as much as not being able to _feel_ him right now.

You took a deep breath, almost taking a step-

The door to the office opened and you jumped, almost crashing into the stand. 

Professor Mills looked at you in surprise, then at Sam.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were busy,” she said.

Sam shook his head, as if clearing his thoughts; still said dazedly, “No, it’s nothing like that.”

“I was just leaving,” you mumbled, catching your breath.

She looked at you curiously. “You’re from the first year, right?”

“Yeah.”

“You’re the one who wrote the paper on semantics in legal writing. Y/L/N, was it?”

“Yes, Y/N Y/L/N.”

“She’s the one we were talking about, remember?” She asked Sam. “The one whose style reminded me of you.”

Sam nodded curtly, the tips of his ears turning red.

“That was a good paper,” she said. “Very impressive.”

“Thank you, professor,” you replied. “I’ll get going then.”

You gave Sam a nod, “Professor.” And hurried out of the room as fast as you could. The hot air outside cleared your head and you stumbled into one of cement seating in the spill out space outside the offices. Had you really been about to throw yourself at Sam?

Most of you wanted to pass out from the intensity of that interaction, but a small part of you wondered if it really would have been that awful if you had actually followed your insane instinct and done it anyway. You sat there till your breathing returned to normal and you could feel your legs again. 

You took the first steps towards home.

_Y/N._

_How are you?_

He had called out to you and looked at you with the absolute certainty that only came from knowing the depth of someone’s soul. He didn’t hate you. As you walked, you felt lighter than you had in years, like the weight of the world had been lifted off of your shoulders. You could pick your feet up and they wouldn’t touch the ground again. It felt like being set free. 


	9. Chapter 9

Kevin kept stealing glances at you. It started out guilelessly, but then he got suspicious real quick.

“Something is up with you!” He finally proclaimed.

You looked up innocently from the bowl you were mixing the batter in. “What?”

“Oh, don’t give me that look. I know something is different today,” Kevin insisted. “Jack, back me up here!”

Jack looked up from his book, sweet and oblivious. “What?”

It only furthered Kevin’s annoyance. “Look at her!” He pointed a finger accusingly at you. “She’s humming!”

“She hums sometimes,” Meg shrugged from her place near the flowerpots in the balcony, where she sat cleaning her telescope.

You winked at her and she blew back a kiss.

“Did you see that!” Kevin shouted. “And now she’s winking!”

“Kev, you need to take it down a notch,” you grinned at him.

“Say what you want, Y/N, I know you’re keeping something from us,” he announced. 

“It’s just that I have an evening to myself for the first time in a while. It’s good to know that I can be in bed by eleven.”

“That’s a good enough reason to hum if you ask me,” Jack said absently. “God knows we’ve all wrecked our sleep schedules beyond repair now.”

“Y/N, Cas and Pam at least have night jobs,” Meg said. “We have zero excuses.”

Kevin gave up on trying to wriggle out the reason for your humming out of you and settled for stealing the cookie batter.

“Let’s not bake this. Let’s just eat this out of the bowl.”

You smacked his hand away, taking the bowl with you to the kitchen counter.

The door to the apartment opened and Cas came in. He looked ready to drop.

There was an outburst of excitement at his entry and he gave everyone a tired but happy smile.

“I thought I’d find you guys here,” he said, dropping on your sofa. 

“Long day?” You asked sympathetically.

He sighed. “It’s always a long day when you’re posted in the pediatric ward. I don’t look forward to it.”

“But you’re so good with children!” Meg said.

You zeroed in on her. “How do _you_ know that?”

“I-I ran into him at the hospital,” she said, suddenly busy with her lens. “It was nothing.”

Didn’t look ‘nothing’ to you, but you didn’t press her on it. Solidarity was the key to a healthy roommate relationship. Afterall, she had helped you out with Kevin earlier and hadn’t spoken a word about the coat.

You needn’t have worried, because Kevin clearly wasn’t over you.

“Y/N’s keeping something from us,” he complained to Cas promptly. “She’s humming, and smiling and baking those cookies!”

“She does all those things normally,” Cas said. You gave him an exaggerated bow, and Kevin’s jaw dropped.

“Now she’s- she’s doing _that!”_ he spluttered.

You threw the kitchen rag at him. “Why are you scrutinising me with a magnifying glass, when we all should be clearly interested in Jack’s date! Why is nobody asking him the questions?”

“It was good,” Jack said, finally setting the book down. “Claire’s awesome! Hey, Y/N, guess what I found out? Her mom’s a Professor at the law school!”

“Really?” 

“Claire Mills, if it helps,” he added.

Professor Mills. You would have never guessed she had a daughter that old. She didn’t look it. You were instantly reminded of her barging into Sam’s office. What would have happened, if she hadn’t?

“You know what? Fine! Don’t tell me,” Kevin crossed his arms over his chest.

You walked over to him, and ruffled his hair. “It’s really nothing. If it was anything big, I’d tell you.”

It was true. A professor had smiled at you for a bit. That was all there was to it.

“Fine,” he gave in, sneaking away the bowl of cookie batter. “Keep smiling though, you light up the room.”

* * *

**9th September 2008**

‘You’ll be okay by yourself?” Aunt El asked you, worry creasing her forehead.

“Mom!” Jo groaned. “She’s not by herself! She’s with me.”

Ellen looked at her like that was hardly a good thing and you snickered.

“I worry that instead of her influencing you in a good way, you’re going to spoil her,” she admonished Jo good naturedly. “Please don’t get drunk and annoy the neighbours.”

“We’re totally getting drunk and annoying the neighbours,” Jo whispered conspiratorially behind her mother’s back.

Ellen was heading to Wisconsin for a bar owners convention. At least, that’s what she had told you. Jo believed it was a pretense for her to get drunk with her own friends.

“I’ll help out Jo at the diner,” you told your aunt, getting up to walk her to the door. 

Aunt El placed a hand on your shoulder. “You know you don’t have to, Y/N. Jo has plenty of help there.”

“I want to,” you offered, and she smiled.

“Alright girls,” Aunt El said. “Don’t have too much fun.” She hugged both of you and chasetly kissed your forehead. It was such a pure gesture of affection, it brought back memories of your Gran and the few faded ones of your mom.

“Pick your poison, my sweet child,” Jo grinned, pulling out a bottle of Vodka mere minutes after Ellen’s car had left the driveway. She had a hoard of bottles with her under the table. “We also have Whiskey, rum and this sweet mother of everything holy - Tequila.”

You stared at the assortment of liquor in horror. “Jo, I’ve only ever had beer, and two pints were more than enough to me as high as the holy heaven. This is a stupid idea.”

“In this house, we live for stupid,” Jo said, pouring some of the colourless liquid in a shot glass. “At least when my mother isn’t home.”

You looked at her dubiously.

“C’mon, Y/N, this will be fun!”

Her grin was so infectious that you gave in. 

“Pour away, bar wench,” you said, delicately putting your hand against your forehead like a gothic European woman. Your cousin howled with laughter and slid the glass towards you. “Let’s start with Vodka, shall we?”

The next day you would know that you shouldn’t have started with Vodka. Hell, you shouldn’t have started with _anything!_ It felt like waking up in another reality when you opened your eyes the next morning. In fact, even doing that had been a struggle. The sun was shining too brightly through the tiny slit in the curtains, almost assaulting you in the eyes and your head felt like it had grown a few pounds over the night.

You groaned, wanting to roll over and go back to sleep, but a wave of nausea hit you and you shambled out of the bed, making it just in time to the bathroom to hurl your gut into the toilet. It was nasty and felt neverending. After the puking fit passed, you just curled on your side on the wet bathroom floor, wondering why the hell people put themselves through this? Sure, it had been a fun night, and after the second glass of vodka, you didn’t remember much anyway. Just really vague memories. There was some dancing on the staircase involved, jumping on the bed, and really loud music. Your throat was already sore from all the yelling and laughing, the throwing up had only made it worse.

You tried to recollect why you were in your bra and shorts. Oh, strip poker. You wanted to bang your head against the bathroom tiles, but even moving made the nausea worse. Only the thought of Jo finally made you get up and go looking for her in the house, which was a total mess. There were clothes everywhere. It was like the wardrobes had all burst open spilling clothes all over the house. 

And had there been crying? You remembered in flashes that you were sobbing ceaselessly in Jo’s arms at one point. 

Jo was nowhere to be seen. You did the only logical thing and called her phone.

“Morning, sunshine!” Jo answered on the third ring, voice absolutely nice and chirpy.

“How?” You croaked. 

Jo’s laughter echoed from the other side. “I’m just good at handling it. I was going to wake you before I left for the diner, but you were out for good. Figured you’d call when you woke up. Man, drunk Y/N is my new favourite person in the world. She’s a freaking rockstar! We are so doing this every weekend.”

Well, you wanted to dropkick drunk Y/N from the roof of the house. She got to have all the fun and you were the one to suffer especially when you didn’t even remember anything. From your seat next to the phone you gawked at the clock. It was just past noon.

You groaned.

“There, there,” Jo said sympathetically. “There’s a bottle of Advil on my nightstand. Take two and keep drinking water. You should be better in a few hours, okay?”

“Mhmm…”

“Do you want me to come over?” She asked, sounding worried now.

“I’ll be fine,” you answered, quickly.

“Just keep sipping on some water and don’t skip the meal. Eat some bread, I’ve heard that helps, too.”

“Yeah, okay.”

“Hey, Y/N,” Jo asked. Her voice hitched, as if she was nervous. “I’m going out with Dean after work. Is it okay with you if he stayed over?”

“Of course!” you said immediately. “It’s no problem at all.” 

“Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”

After hanging up the phone, you studiously did what Jo had said. Took the pills, filled a water bottle and then snuggled up on the couch, playing some mindless sitcom on the TV.

You didn’t pay any attention to it. Instead, you thought about Dean. When you had first met Dean, you were a little unsure about what to make of him. He wasn’t exactly hostile towards you, but it wasn’t hard to spot the wariness, as if he didn’t trust you being around Sam, or rather didn’t want to trust. After the funeral that had completely changed. He had been more than welcoming and understanding. In fact, he had taken the time out to show you around the town in his car. According to Jo it was super rare of him and that he must really like you. His words from the graveyard came back to you. _“You have to take care of yourself first, before you can take care of anyone else.”_ It had been just for your ears, and you knew exactly who he had been hinting towards.

You wondered idly, if you’d had a big brother, would he have been just as protective of you as Dean was of Sam? But Dean wasn’t just Sam’s brother, he was more than that, he was also a parent. Must have been awful to be the responsible one since such a small age and then doing such a great job. Look at how Sam had turned out to be.

You sighed, readjusting yourself. You so wanted to call Sam, but didn’t want to disturb him when he was busy studying for the Bar. You had taken to dropping by their place in the mornings with food. It made you feel like one of those evil scientists, because Dean’s face would light up the moment he saw you, expecting the pie. It was all really cute. Sam’s eyes, however, were only reserved for you. There was so much longing in them that it made your legs weak. The moment he saw you, though, the longing would be replaced by purest of joys. You would run to him and he’d catch up in his arms, kissing you soundly each time. That feeling, of being so wanted, was the best thing in your life right now. 

It was always the little things. How he never touched you without being completely sure that it was what you wanted. The first night you had stayed over, you had woken up in the middle of the night to find him sleeping on the carpet below you. The sight would have melted the hardest of hearts.

You didn’t know what most couples did, had nothing to compare this with, but Sam was definitely different. He read to you. He would open his textbooks, and read out loud cases and laws and proceedings. You didn’t understand much, but you loved to see him so immersed in it, his deep voice had become an anchor, steadying your life around it.

Once, after much persuasion, he had obliged you by playing a piece of Chopin on the Grand Piano. He said he was rusty, since he had been out of practice for so long, only having started playing again recently. You didn’t understand classical music. Whatever he played, it was all lovely.

On Sundays you would go to the park with picnic baskets, and you would rant about the ducks endlessly. Sometimes Dean and Jo would join you, but mostly it was just the two of you, stealing quiet moments. The soft touch of his rough hands drove you mad sometimes, but he never did anything more than kiss you. At first you wondered if he didn’t want anything more, despite Gran’s _‘boys only want one thing’_ speech, and it left you feeling so frustrated. You would have believed it too, that he wasn’t interested in you like that, if you hadn’t seen his pupils dilate after he kissed you. His hands would start shaking a little and he would gulp before pulling away. He felt something, even if he didn’t want to show exactly what it was. 

The clock chimed and you opened your eyes. Had you really fallen asleep again, despite having woken up at noon? The TV was still playing a rerun of _Days of our lives._ You sat up feeling steadier. In fact, your stomach was settled, too. It was like the hangover of morning had never happened. Despite it being only 6, it was dark outside. You walked to the window to see that the sky was overcast. 

Deciding to listen to Jo’s sage advice, you made yourself grilled cheese and ate it as quickly as you could before getting to the mess that the house was in. Dean would be flabbergasted if he saw the condition of the place. You grabbed all the clothes and folded them neatly into two piles- yours and Jo’s. Seriously? Had there been a drunk fashion show? Then rounded up the empty bottles and put them in the trash can. It took you over an hour to clean the rest of the house.

At least Jo had put the mail inside on the table before leaving. You decided to put it in the drawer for when Aunt El returned from her weekend. As you were sliding it in, you noticed that one of them was addressed to you and on the letterhead of-

You hurriedly tore open the envelope and pulled out the contents. Unfolding the first paper, you went through the content furiously for the words that you were looking for. As you read them, the paper slipped out of your hand, fell onto the table. You were running before you knew it, running out of the house and into the street. It had started raining outside and your feet slipped on the wet pavers of the sidewalks. Several times you slipped and fell, but you didn’t let that stop you. Each time you picked yourself up, running till you were drenched and out of breath, till you had reached his house.

You banged on the door, not stopping until it opened. Sam stood there, his annoyance swiftly melting into first surprise, then concern.

“Y/N!” He ushered you inside, quickly closing the door behind you. 

“Sam… S-Sam,” You tried to say and he immediately dragged you inside. 

“Jesus Christ, you’re shivering and soaked to the bone,” he fretted, seating you on the sofa and throwing a rug over you. “What were you thinking? You know you can’t deal with the cold!”

“Sam,” you said, grabbing his hand to stop him from hovering over you. “I- I got in!”

He came to a halt. “What?”

“I got into North Carolina Central,” you finally managed through chattering teeth. “I got in!”

His grip on your arms loosened just for a second and then he was pulling you to him, kissing you with an emotion that probably didn’t have a name. 

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, pulling back, a grin of true happiness breaking across his face. “You did it, Y/N! You did it! This is _incredible.”_

You could see that he meant it. Each word. And his eyes were saying more than that, they were brimming with gratification. Instead of saying anything, you leaned forward and kissed him some more, deeply, pouring all your feelings into it, till a violent shiver ripped through you.

“Shit!” He swore. “You’ve got to get out of these. You can use my bathroom to wash. I’ll get you some of my clothes. Not that they’d fit.” He scratched the back of his hair, looking nervous.

Anything to get out of these clothes. Now that you were so cold, you realised just how reckless it had been to get wet in the rain. 

“Come on.” Sam slowly led you upstairs to his room. “I’ll just turn the hot water on for you.”

You looked around Sam’s room as he disappeared in the bathroom. All the times that you had been to the house, he had never invited you up here. Not once. Looking around, you noticed how clean and organised the room was. There weren’t many personal touches, given how little time he had spent here in the past few years, but there was a picture on his table, of him and Dean, laughing at something. 

“In you go,” Sam said, coming out. “There’s a towel for you, and er… I’ll leave the clothes on the bed.”

“Thanks,” you mumbled shyly and walked into the bathroom, clutching at your wet clothes. Locking the door, you stared at the girl in the mirror. She looked bright eyed and… happy. Like the whole world was at her feet. 

The hot shower did calm your nerves, soothing your skin and getting the mud out of your hair. It felt impolite to leave your clothes in the cloth basket at the foot of the sink, but what other choice did you have? Wrapping the towel around your body, you peeked out to make sure you were all by yourself, before stepping out. Sam had laid out a tshirt, a pair of boxers, sweat pants and even a sweater. You felt your face heated up at the sight of them. It felt so intimate to pull on the boxers. You pulled the T-shirt over your head next. It almost reached your lower thigh. Boldly, you decided to ditch the sweatpants, not feeling the need for them after a warm shower.

In the living room, Sam was tending to the fire, his back turned towards you. Feeling brave, you climbed down the staircase. Sam turned at the sound of your feet and his eyes widened, an audible gasp leaving his lips. The reaction was both flattering and encouraging as you walked towards him slowly and kneeled down in front of him. He gulped and breathed out, leaning back just a bit. You moved forward, caressing the side of his face. He sighed as if your touch pained him. 

“Is this not okay?” You breathed uncertainty. “Do you not want this?”

Maybe the hurt was clear on your face, because Sam drew your hand away from his face and placed it over his heart. Through the thin layer of his t-shirt, you could feel it pounding hard.

“Not want _this?_ ” He laughed breathily. “It feels like I’ve wanted nothing _but_ you since I first saw you.”

You didn’t understand. “Then why don’t you ever-” you trailed off.

He took your face in his hands, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. “Y/N/N,” he whispered and the hair on the back of your head stood straight at the intensity in his voice. He had never called you that before. “Don’t you see? You’re too good. I-I don’t think I’m saying it right… part of me feels that I don’t deserve this… I don’t deserve you.”

“Sam! What’re you talking about?”

He looked away, not meeting your eyes. It was something you couldn’t bear.

“Do you know what my first thought was, when I saw the acceptance?” You asked gently, placing your other hand which wasn’t resting over his heart, on his face, making him look at you. The very light stubble there prickled the skin of your palm. “That I had to tell _you_. It was enough to make me run in the rain, because I knew no one would be as happy for me as you would be!”

“I was happy because you deserve this and the world.” His eyes were a liquid galaxy. They held the universe’s power over you.

He still wasn’t getting it. “Sam,” you said, voice low. “I _love_ you.”

His grip on your face slacked and his hands slid down to your shoulders, eyes roving all over your face, like he was trying to memorise every line, every curve of it.

“Y/N.” 

Your name falling from his lips did strange things to your body. Suddenly you were yanked forward and with none of the softness you had come to expect from Sam, but with a desperation that left you reeling. His fingers twisted in your hair and he was kissing you hungrily, like there was no tomorrow, like the world would cease to exist if he stopped now. For you it would, if he stopped. You grabbed onto his shoulders, feeling the tense roll of his muscles as his lips traveled down the column of your neck, leaving wet kisses in their wake.

And you? Your body was on fire. It didn’t hurt, just tingled so pleasantly that you never wanted it to stop. An incoherent moan left your mouth as you held on to Sam like dear life.

“Are you sure about this?” he asked, voice hoarse.

You nodded, unable to form proper words, and then fumbled with the hem of his t-shirt. _God, don’t stop now. Don’t stop ever._

Sam yanked his shirt off of over his head in one swift move and you were left to marvel at that carved out muscles. You ran your hands lightly over his chest, abs and stomach till the skin disappeared beneath the waistband his pants. 

His hands disappeared under your shirt, feeling the skin of your back and shoulders. You shivered and he pulled his hands back. 

“Do you want to go upstairs?” He was nervous, you realised. You dipped down to his chest.

“Yes.”

Before he could do anything else, you stuttered, “Sam?”

His eyes were wide, breath coming pants. “Yeah?”

“I-I’ve never done this before… I want to… but I don’t know how…” your voice trailed off and you looked down at his hands where they held yours. 

Sam placed one finger under your chin and titled it up so he could look into your eyes, “We’ll take it slow… only if you want to. And if you don’t-”

You put your finger to his lips. “I want to, _really._ ” You might spontaneously combust if it didn’t happen now. 

That was all Sam needed to hear. He scooped you up in his arms, and carried you to the very bedroom you had just left. There was no fire here, but the room was dim and his bed was somehow already warm. He didn’t waste a second before his arms were circling your waist. You caught hold of the hem of your t-shirt and pulled it over your head. Sam gasped, his eyes doing that thing again which made you go all weak in the knees, made your bones soft.

“Can I?” His voice was oh so soft, and when you nodded, he pulled you back to him, chest against chest and skin against skin. You’d be damned if it wasn’t the most wonderful feeling in the world.

“God, I love you,” he breathed into your hair. “I’ve wanted to say it for so long. I can’t believe that you feel the same way.” He kissed your forehead. “And you’re so beautiful. Each time I look at you, you take my breath away. What are you doing to me?”

This was what touched you the most about being with him. He treated you like the most precious blessing in the world, like you were some special favour granted to him by destiny when you were just… you. The only reason you could tell him that you loved him so freely was because you knew he felt the same way. How could you not know, when he looked at you like you were his wish come true? His every gesture, every word just went to further prove it. 

But he did try to prove it for every moment of the night, with his touches, kisses and reverences. He tried to prove it over and over. Later, exhausted, after he had fallen asleep, you lay with your head over his arm, thinking that he needn’t have tried at all. You would forever remember that he loves you. It was the one thing you would never question.


	10. Chapter 10

**10th September 2008**

You woke up to something soft tickling your face, almost feather light and pleasant. Opening your eyes, you found Sam’s arms wrapped around you, nestling you in them. A glowing warmth spread through your body as you remembered last night, his lips on your skin, and the feel of his hot breath on your face. The way he had called out for you was enough to raise goosebumps on your skin now. And he’d said he loved you. Your heart thrummed in your chest at the memory.

Slowly, you removed his arm from over your body and slipped out of bed. You wanted to kiss him on his forehead or the point of his nose but Sam looked so peaceful you didn’t have the heart to wake him up. 

You pulled over the T-shirt and the boxers Sam had lent you last night and headed down to the kitchen. Maybe it hadn’t been the best idea to skip dinner after a morning of hangover because your stomach was churning weirdly. 

Would everything be different now? After last night. You felt like your heart would burst from all the love you were feeling. Without giving the task at hand much thought, you fried some eggs, toasted the bread and put the coffee pot on a boil, wondering what Sam had for breakfast. 

With an excitement that you had never felt before, you carried the tray laden with food upstairs, wondering how to wake Sam up. As it turned out, Sam was already sitting up, a confused expression on his face. The sheets were bunched around his waist and the sight of his naked torso made your face feel hot. When he saw you, his eyes lit up, a smile replacing the frown.

“Here you go,” you said, placing the tray before him and then joining him on the bed.

His eyes softened. “You didn’t need to,” he said, gesturing towards the food. “Not seeing you here, I was starting to worry that last night had been a dream.”

“Only the best dream of my life,” you muttered, pouring his coffee. “Black with half spoon sugar. Just like you have it.”

Sam was still stuck on your words. He took the cup from your hands and placed it back on the tray, then pulled you to him. “That’s just it. I didn’t want it to be a dream. Even if it was the best dream ever. All dreams, even the best ones end when you wake up. But with you… I don’t ever want this to end.”

You reached out and kissed him. At first he was surprised, then he leaned into it. Kissing Sam was like a breath of fresh air for your soul. If it was left to you, you would spend an obscene amount of time kissing him.

“This is one way to start the day,” he chuckled.

“Mhmmm…” you sighed, handing him the coffee and starting on the eggs. 

“Funny that Jo didn’t turn the place upside down looking for me,” you wondered idly. You should have told her where you were last night.

“I called her when you got here,” Sam said. “When er… when you were having a bath.”

Sam was always so thoughtful. Last night it hadn’t even occurred to you to let Jo know, about the acceptance or the fact that you were here, and you weren’t particularly proud of it. Absentmindedly, you scooted closer to Sam and like it was the most natural thing to do, he put his arm around you. The heat coming of his skin and his scent was so comforting, you all but melted against his side. A girl could get used to this.

“Hey,” Sam nudged you with his lips pressed in your hair. “You know that NC Central is only a seven hour drive from New York, right?”

Of course you knew that. It was a great school, but it was also on the East coast, where Sam would be. You nodded against his neck, lightly tracing the hard lines of his stomach. 

“I could drive over the weekends to see you.” There was hope in his voice.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way,” you smiled at the thought of it all. A new school, a new life with Sam in it. You thought of happy weekends and flinging yourself into his arms whenever you saw him. You pictured his wide smiles, and the joy in his eyes when he saw you. “I could hop on a bus on Friday night and be there in New York in the morning. You’d show me around, wouldn’t you? I’ve never been to such a big city.”

“You have no idea,” he said. “I’ve never wanted that job more than now. Hell, I’d throw myself into preparing for the bar, if it keeps us that close now.”

“Mhmm.” You huddled closer to him.

“What’re you thinking?”

“About how I’m going to afford this,” you said. “NC central isn’t that expensive, but it’s still a lot considering I have almost nothing to my name. I don’t want to sell off Gran’s house.”

“You want to make it into a bakery, I remember,” he said, gently, then added hesitantly. “Maybe I could-”

“No!” You sat up straight. “Absolutely not. I can’t ask this from you.” You hurried to explain, seeing the slightly hurt expression on his face. “This isn’t about you in any way. It’s very kind of you to offer, it really is. But I want to do this by myself. I’ll apply for a student’s loan. Like I said, the money isn’t an impossible sum. I just need a guarantor to vouch for me at the bank. I don’t want to ask aunt El cause I know she had some bank problems with the diner. She doesn’t trust them very much.”

Sam looked thoughtful.

“What’re you thinking?” You asked suspiciously. “Don’t think about volunteering.” 

His finger was drawing a pattern on your shoulder as he licked his lips. “You know I can’t. I don’t own any property myself. You should ask Dean, though.”

“Dean?” You looked up at him surprised. “Why would he?”

“Why wouldn’t he?” Sam countered. “He might not show it, but he does like you. You’re not asking him to pay for your college, you’re just asking him to be a guarantor. He has great credit, the bank won’t refuse that. It’s not like you’re going to dupe him. I know my brother. Trust me, he’ll be happy to help you.”

When you still looked surprised, Sam took hold of your hand and pressed it to his lips. “Don’t overthink this. You said you wanted to do this by yourself, so you bring it up with him. I promise I won’t say a word.”

“You’re awesome. You know that, right?”

He winked. “I don’t know about that. But I’m sure happy you think that!”

You removed the tray from the bed and placed it on the side table, then moved over to straddle Sam, hands placed on either side of his face. “Thank you for being so understanding.”

In a quick moment, Sam flipped you, so that you were lying on the bed with him hovering over you. He dipped down to kiss the hollow of your neck, then whisper against your skin. “The pleasure is all mine.”

* * *

“You know, if you keep bouncing on the balls of your feet like that,” Meg said drowsily from the table, where she sat flipping through a magazine, “I’m going to side with Kevin on this. You’re hiding something.”

You put your lunch in the bag, wondering just how to tell her. It wasn’t that you wanted to hide your history from your roommate. There was just so much of it, you had no idea where to start. For now, you just settled for, “There’s this professor. I thought he was mad at me. Turns out he isn’t.”

“Wow. It doesn’t take much to get you all chirpy.”

Just the feeling of six years worth of hell coming to an end.

“Ready to go?” You asked and Meg jumped down from the high stool.

“Yep.”

“Is this the same good looking professor?” She asked out the blue as you reached the campus gates.

“How do you know about the good looking professor?” You narrowed your eyes. You had mentioned Sam only to one person in the apartment.

Meg looked taken aback for a second, then said nonchalantly. “Cas told me.”

“You two are really close, aren’t you?” Try as you may, you couldn’t keep the sly tone out of your voice completely. 

Meg changed the topic smoothly, but not before you saw the faint blush on her cheeks.

Meg blushing? Speak of novelty.

She waved you a goodbye at the entrance of the law building, heading north to the Physics department. Wondering if anyone else in the apartment had noticed, you entered the class for your first lecture. 

Professor Mills was in a great mood today, and she encouraged a debate on whether Legal writing and its syntax should affect how seriously the core content of any litigation is treated. You firmly believed that poor syntax should in no way undermine the severity of any litigation, and made your points with citation. The opposite team consisting of Brad and everyone in Madison’s group tried to put up a strong fight, but you knew you had the moral high ground on that one. Maddy was smiling by the end of it, but the expression on the other’s faces ranged from disappointment to disgust.

Professor Mills mentioned you by your name at the end of the class, lauding you for your points. It was enough to give you the high of the day. You simply loved her.

As the college day neared its end, you were excited for Civil Procedures, excited to see Sam again. Maybe he wouldn’t ignore you now. Maybe he’d actually look at you and smile. Your eyes were eagerly glued to the door, waiting for him while everyone chattered in the background. 

It wasn’t Sam who came in. Instead, the TA Paul announced that the lecture has been cancelled for today and tomorrow. Professor Winchester would take double lectures in the following week to cover it up. 

“Well, dang it!” Meredith cursed. “After that horrible debate, I was looking forward to seeing that chiseled face.”

“You aren’t the only one who’s disappointed,” Lacey said slyly. “Y/N looks like someone kicked her puppy.”

You schooled your expressions immediately. 

Madison rolled her eyes. “Everyone was looking forward to it. Maybe he has something important. Remember he ditched Thursday, Friday on our first week, too.”

“Maybe he’s just playing hooky with his girlfriend,” Rebecca shrugged. You had a maddening urge to slap her. It wasn’t fair to direct all your anger at her; you knew that. However, listening to her words, evaporated the high you had been feeling completely.

How naive of you to think that one small conversation could make everything okay. Maybe he went back home and changed his mind, had seen that the exchange was a lapse in his judgement. Your stomach dropped at that thought. Why did he have to show you a moment of softness, if he was just going to take it all away? It would have been better then, had he continued to ignore your existence. You had been making your peace with it. You didn’t think you had it in you to take one more hit after feeling hope, at last.

Morosely, you started picking up your things.

“Y/N. Don’t forget about the party, tomorrow.”

Madison was looking at you with wide eyes.

You opened your mouth to make up a reason. She cut you off-

“Look, I checked your schedule. You’re not working this weekend. This is your last working day for the week. I’ve made all the reservations and counted you in.”

“Maddie-”

Her brow furrowed. “You’re not going to stand me up, are you? The drinks are on me.”

Looking at her, you just couldn’t say no. 

“I was gonna say that I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”

“Yay!” She shot out of her chair and flung her arms around you. Surprised, you put your hand against her back. 

“Told you she’d come,” Madison told her friends. Lacey gave you a smile, Meredith looked disinterested and Rebecca had her back turned to you completely. That summed it up accurately. For the umpteeth time you wondered how their group functioned at all.

Brad, who had been lingering at the table with his guy friends, gave you a smirk.

“Miss Y/L/N finally gracing us with her presence?”

“Oh, butt out, Brad,” Madison shoved him. “If you keep acting like a dick, she might change her mind.”

“Now we wouldn’t want that, would we,” he said under his breath.

You didn’t want any more of their company than what was absolutely required, so you said your goodbye to Madison and left the lecture hall for the day. With your sulky attitude, returning to the apartment wasn’t an option in case you ran into someone. Those guys were very perceptive and you didn’t want to lie to them anymore.

After wandering aimlessly underneath the pergolas of the Quadrangle, you headed to the library. It was about two in the afternoon; four more hours and it would be your shift anyway.

You decided to have your lunch in the closed quarters of the librarian’s room. There wasn’t much to the room except a makeshift bed, a table, chair and a coffee machine. You could sit there and catch up with the essays after lunch.

The on shift librarian wasn’t Molly today, but this other odd hours guy. She was hovering over him, giving instructions. When she saw you, she ushered you to the side. “It’s his first time. I’m training him for the weekend.”

“Oh.” You looked over at the guy. He was clearly an anxious wreck. You felt bad for him.

“Hey listen,” you said, “Is it okay if I use the librarian’s room? I haven’t had lunch and I don’t want to go to the eateries or the mess.”

She gave you a guilty look. “The room is kinda sorta… _ocupado._ ”

“What?”

“See for yourself.” She took hold of your hand and pulled you towards the room in question.

The door was almost closed, save for a small slit. Through it, you could see Sam sitting on the table, multiple books and files scattered around him. He was absolutely absorbed in whatever he was doing, forehead lined in concentration.

“What the-”

Molly shushed you. “Look, I know this looks weird, but he’s in the middle of something. They convicted one of his key clients, and he said he needed some place quiet to figure this out.”

“What about his firm?” You asked the obvious question.

“Client’s not from SF. He’s from LA. Heading to Acton Gris would be going in the opposite direction.”

“Then what about his office here?” You were so surprised that the questions just flowed out of your mouth.

Molly gave an exasperated sigh. “Students. They keep knocking on the door.” She gave you a desperate look. “Please Y/N, let him be. He’s really worked up about it.”

“Yeah, of course,” you assured her. 

She looked grateful. “This isn’t conventional, but he’s one of the good folks around here. I knew him from the alumni fraternity before he started teaching here. In fact, he recommended me for my internship at the LA firm he was working in then.”

That explained why she called him by his first name. She was preaching to the choir about how good Sam was though.

“That’s all fine,” you said. “Just let me know if there’s any way I can help.”

“Molly?”

Both of you jumped at the sound of his voice.

“Molly?” He asked again. “Is that you?”

She pushed the door open.

“Yeah it’s me.” She looked at you. “And this is Y/N. You remember her from the other day, don’t you?”

He smiled at you. It was a tired smile, but it held the mischief of a secret only the two of you knew.

“I remember her,” he said dryly.

All the distress and world ending angst you had been feeling since the class vanished into thin air.

“I-I didn’t mean to disturb you,” you said quickly. “I just came in to check if I could have lunch here. Clearly you are busy working, so I’m just going to go now.”

“You’re not disturbing,” he said firmly. “I’ll clear the table. You can have lunch here.”

“No- no,” you backed off. “Seriously. I can go to the mess.”

“Y/N.” He looked beyond exhausted, as if he hadn’t slept in a while. Even his words were heavy. “C’mon, in. At least sit on the bed.”

Molly poked you in the back from behind and you stumbled inside. 

The room was a mess. There were papers everywhere. Sam was one of the most organised people you knew. If there was that much mess around him, either he had changed drastically in the years or this was really a disaster situation. 

“Tell me if I can help you with anything.” The words were out before you could even think them through. 

He rubbed his hand across his face. “I can’t possibly ask you to do that.”

“You’re not asking me. I’m offering.”

You didn’t know if this fell in line with proper etiquette of how one should converse with a professor, but this was Sam, and he looked ready to drop. To hell with etiquette. You were going to do whatever you could to help.

Behind you, Molly had disappeared back into the library.

He paused, considering your words, then sighed. “Even if you wanted to, this is too much to explain.”

You flung your bag on the bed and rolled up the sleeves of your sweater. “I’ve worked as a paralegal for an asshole boss. I think I can keep up.”

Sam gave you a look that was halfway between impressed and surprised. 

“Well, I’ll be damned,” he muttered under his breath, so softly that you almost missed it. “Alright, here’s the details of the case-”

You listened attentively as he quickly briefed you about this teenage boy, James Feller, who had been arrested for grand auto theft about four years back. The boy testified against the gang, cut a deal with the DA and walked. Now he had been arrested again, and after being let out, jumped the bail. Sam had until tomorrow to fix it or this kid was spending a long, long time in jail. Sam was sure that James hadn’t done it. He had some grabs from CCTV footage to prove his alibi. It only needed to be put together. He might be completely innocent when it came to the theft, but there was still the bail issue to take care of.

“Right, I’ll go through the log to see if there’s anything similar where an underage defendant jumped bail and got out of prison under the jurisdiction of LA,” you said.

“That’s exactly what I was going to suggest,” he said, astonished again.

You shrugged and pulled out your laptop, signing into the library’s archival server with your password. There were a couple of cases that could be cited in context to Sam’s case. You pulled out the soft copies of the litigations and highlighted the relevant extracts. 

“You guys need anything?” Molly was standing at the door. She had her bag on her shoulder. You looked at the clock. It was already six, time for your shift to begin. Where had the time gone?

“We’re good,” Sam said.

“Seriously? You guys don’t need anything? Not even coffee?” She came to stand by the coffee machine. “I’m making a cup for myself anyway.”

You gave in. “I’d like a cup. Thanks, Molly.”

“One for me, too,” Sam caved, too.

“You guys look intense working like that,” she said, filling the pot with water. “Are you making any headway?”

“Y/N found some useful citations.” Sam closed the heavy book before him and leaned back in his chair, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt. The coat had been hung over the back of his chair since long before. You tried not to look at him too much.

“Good on you, Y/N!” Molly said, pulling on three mugs. “How do you have your coffee?”

“Little milk and one spoon sugar,” you said politely.

“Sam?”

There was no response. You looked to see that he was busy with his phone, having not heard a single word of it.

“Let it be,” you suggested, seeing as Molly was shuffling the strap of her bag. “You go on. I’ll manage the coffee.”

“You’re a lovely person!” She noted with just a hint of surprise, then blew you a kiss. “See you later, _Chica bonita.”_

You poured coffee for him, black with half spoon of sugar, stirred it and carefully handed it to him. He took it gratefully, holding out two fingers as he talked over the phone. 

You grabbed your mug and went back to your laptop. It appeared that Sam was talking to a colleague explaining the things he needed to get ready. He took a sip of the coffee and stopped mid sentence, looking at you over his screen in wonderment.

“Chase, I’ll call you back in a minute.”

You had gathered your stuff in one hand.

“Y/N?” Sam interrupted you, voice oddly tender. “You remembered.”

He was holding his mug out. The warm vapours were slightly fogging his glasses.

“Of course I remember.”

There was no way you would forget.

He saw your things wrapped in your hand and the bag slung over your shoulder.

“You’re leaving?” Disappointment clear in his tone.

You shook your head. “I’m just going outside at the desk. It’s my shift now. I’ll continue tagging relevant extracts and have three sets of printouts ready for you. You’ll let me know if you need more time? I can keep the library running all night.”

“You’re the power wielding person here, aren’t you?”

“Sure am,” you grinned. “I’ll leave you it.”

Once outside, you took a deep breath, letting it out slowly. Being around Sam made you conscious of every little thing… enough to drive you crazy. Maybe it was a good thing that you were going to the party tomorrow. You needed a drink. That thought inadvertently reminded you of Jo- the only sister you’d ever had. If she were here, she would have told you to go for it despite knowing how insane drunk Y/N was and wreck you would be the next day. The memory of her also made you sad, the missing was gut wrenching sometimes. You almost turned on your heel and headed by inside to ask Sam about Jo and about Dean. Were they still together? Did the diner ever get out of the bumpy patch? How was aunt El doing? 

Did they hate you for leaving like that?

That thought brought you up short. You didn’t want to know the answer to that question. There was a small hope within you. If Sam of all people could find it in himself to be civil with you, maybe they would, too. Broaching the topic now would be disastrous. It wouldn’t help Sam right now to lose concentration. Hell, he might do a 180 and suddenly remember that he didn’t like you.

You got back to your desk, filing the cards out for the day before getting to Sam’s paperwork. Though it was a manual job, you did it with utmost concentration, knowing how chaotic courtrooms got and how crucial it was to find the right evidence at the right time. Alongside, you carefully read the suit and arranged the stacks according to the order in which they were needed.

“You know, if you kept going at it like that, you’ll have to represent the boy tomorrow.”

You looked up and your breath hitched. Sam stood before you, his shirt partially untucked and sleeves rolled all the way up till his elbows. The tie was gone and the top button of his shirt was undone. There was a glint of silver against his neck, a thin chain. You wondered where it had come from absently. Without the glasses, and his hair slightly dishevelled, you could see some of the guy you had first fallen in love with.

You looked away quickly, blinking several times, then pushed the stack of printouts towards him. All three copies, arranged as per the appearances of the evidence in the suit papers. The affidavits are all the bottom, along with the supplementary copies.

“You should come down to the office and train my assistant,” he said, leaning over the table so that his elbow rested on top. “He can’t find one paper on time.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh.

“Aren’t you having dinner?” He asked, tucking his hair behind his ear. He was nervous. 

“I’m not hungry.” Your stomach was already so full of butterflies, you didn’t think any food could go in.

“I’m already feeling terrible that you’re helping me with this… please don’t skip dinner for it.” There was something about his voice that affected your soul. The sound of his words were different from everyone elses. All words felt kinder, lovelier when he said them.

“Why are you fighting for this kid?” The words slipped past you before you could stop them. You had been wondering this all evening. “I saw the papers. You’re doing this pro bono and not for Acton Gris. This is your own case.”

He didn’t reply immediately and his face had a far away look. When he finally spoke, it was in a reminiscing tone. “I met James when he was a foster kid a few years ago. He got pushed into the racket because of bad influence. When I saw him at the retention centre, he broke down completely. They were blackmailing him by threatening to hurt his little sister. When he first got off, he looked at me like I was some kind of miracle.” Sam’s face had an awed look, as if he couldn’t comprehend how anyone could think that of him.

“I knew he wouldn’t get into this again. He’s in college now and has basically turned his life around. We have enough evidence to pin a gang member down for framing him. I don’t want anyone at Acton Gris to help me on this because this is my own case. Putting some poor junior on it is just abusing my power.”

He was a good man. That in itself didn’t surprise you because you had always known it. What surprised you was that he had remained one. Sam used to be starry eyed with ambitions and full of a thirst to do the right thing. He had been so idealistic. It worried you that one day he would wake up and see that the world was an even worse place than what he thought it to be. You worried that the ruthless profession might kill some of the inherent goodness in him. After having lost just as much as you, he hadn’t lost faith in the world. He had remained good.

“What?” He questioned and you realised you were staring.

“There you are!”

Jody Mills stood behind Sam, a harried expression on her face. He straightened up immediately and it occurred to you how close your faces had been.

“I went to your house, called up your PA, and here you are.”

“Jody?” He clearly hadn’t expected her.

She handed him the bag she was carrying. “I have dinner for you. I knew you would bury yourself in the case and wouldn’t cook since you’re by yourself now.”

Now. What did that mean? Lacey’s remark about Sam living in family quarters and having a girlfriend came to your mind. You dismissed it quickly.

“Didn’t see you there, Y/N,” Professor Mills came around. “I didn’t know you worked here.”

“Actually I just started a week ago.”

Her eyes flitted to the stack in front of you. “And what’s this?”

“Y/N’s been helping me with some printing,” Sam said.

Professor Mills gave him a once over. “Sam Winchester making students work?”

“It’s not like that,” you defended quickly. “I offered to help S- Mr. Winchester. I have some experience as a paralegal and this was only a matter of making copies.”

“You did a lot more than that,” Sam corrected smoothly.

“I was only joking.” she placed a hand on Sam’s arm and you noted that they were probably closer than just colleagues. Friends even. “You, on the other hand, keep surprising me, Y/N. This looks like solid work.”

You blushed at the compliment, mumbling a small ‘thank you.’ Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Sam gazed down at you oddly. If you didn’t know any better, you might have misinterpreted it as a hint of pride. 

“You have your food!” Jody ordered him and waved at you. “See you in class tomorrow, Y/N.”

“Good night,” you wished her.

Before leaving, she glanced from you to Sam and back again, a peculiar look in her eyes, shook her head and left.

She had packed a burger and pack of oily fries for Sam. You saw his brow furrow at the sight of it and smiled to yourself. Some things never changed.

Sam insisted that you have your dinner, too. However, you made sure that while he sat inside, you had your dinner at your desk. There was only so much of his nearness you could take without having your feelings run wild. Sam needed to go through the case files in peace for the court tomorrow. You let him be, only visiting the librarian’s room once to let him know that you wouldn’t shut the library at all. He was grateful for it. After everyone else had left, you wrapped the shawl around your shoulders and put your head down against the wooden desk. Closing your tired eyes just for a second, you let yourself reflect on everything that had happened today and how one day could be more impactful than a month of one’s life sometimes. 

You woke up several hours later. Grey light was starting to filter from the high windows. It was early dawn.

Hurriedly you got up to check on Sam, but the librarian’s room was closed from the outside, you checked in the seating area, too. There was no one there; you were by yourself in the room. 

Back to your desk, you noticed a folded piece of paper placed under your paperweight.

It said-

_Y/N,_

_I have to start from here now to make it to LA in time for the hearing. Didn’t have the heart to wake you up. I can’t thank you enough for your invaluable help._

_Regards,_

_Sam._

You clutched the paper tightly in your fingers, crumpling it in the process. Sometimes a few words were louder than a speech. Sometimes the gesture was even louder.


	11. Chapter 11

“Oh, look at you. You’re so tired.” Madison rubbed your back as you rested your head against the table in between the lectures.

“She does have a night job.” The stink eye you wanted to give Rebecca would require you to raise your head. She didn’t deserve that sort of effort. All of your thoughts were anyway occupied with how Sam’s trial must be going. You were praying that the poor kid would get off.

“It’s a good thing Civil Procedure class is cancelled for today. You can go home early and sleep the exhaustion off before the party,” Madison said excitedly. If only you could make an excuse out of the exhaustion and ditch the evening completely. The thought of Madison’s disappointed face stopped you from doing that. She _really_ wanted you to come. The least you could do was show your face and then go back home.

It irked you that Madison was so excited for this but the rest of her friends were treating this as just any party as opposed to _her_ party. You turned your head towards her and asked, “So who else is coming?”

She perked up immediately. “Well, it’s you guys, Brad, a couple of his friends and a few girls who were in my sorority.”

“What about your brothers? You have two, right?”

Her face remained carefully fixed in the same expression, though you saw the warmth in her eyes go out. “C’mon, you don’t really think they’d wanna be at my party, do you?”

“They’re your brothers! They’re supposed to be with you on your birthday.”

Lacey gave a high pitched laugh. “They’re both older and cooler, why would they wanna be at their baby sister’s party?”

“Clearly you don’t have any siblings,” Rebecca commented. “Definitely not a brother.”

But I do. I do have a sister, you wanted to say. The words never made it out.

Madison took over quickly, realising that the words were unnecessarily sharp. “It’s just different with brothers, Y/N. They aren’t up into each other’s businesses.”

She was still looking at you uncertainly, worried if the taunt from Rebecca had stung. It hadn’t. You had accepted that Rebecca was mean simply for the heck of it. It was her problem that she was an awful person. Not yours.

You were actually feeling bad for Madison. It was appalling that her family didn’t want to spend time with her. Jo wasn’t your blood sister, yet she dragged you to the one ‘average’ birthday party so she could celebrate with you. And when it came to brothers, you _had_ seen brothers who would die for each other. Heck, even when it came to simple things they would crawl over to be there.

Long after you had reached home and dropped into your bed, Rebecca’s comment kept coming back to you.

_Definitely not a brother._

She was wrong.

* * *

** 22nd September 2008 **

You knew you shouldn’t have been out this late in the evening, even if getting the printouts was essential. The only functioning printing shop was across the town and you didn’t want to ask Jo or aunt El to give you a ride. Already, you were asking too much by agreeing to live with them. So far they had denied your requests to work at the diner to be a helping hand, too. Asking for anymore would only tip the balance further.

The bylane was empty, not a single vehicle on either side. You walked up ahead, holding your papers close to you along with your bag.

“Hey, Darlin’, where you headin’?”

Three men had appeared at the other end of the bylane, their raucous laughter trailing after them. You couldn’t get a look at their face, however, from the way their silhouettes stumbled against the light from the street behind, gave you the impression that, at least, two of them were drunk.

You turned around and started back in the direction you had been coming from. The street there had a lighter traffic than the one you had been heading towards, but it was still better than having to walk past those men.

“Honey, come back,” another one called. The other two jeered in encouragement. You didn’t dare look back as you hurried along, almost to the end of the bylane. Why did it have to be blank walls on both sides? Their voices appeared closer yet and you took off in the sprint, stopping only when you appeared on the street.

Shops were open here and people were still walking up and down. You broke into a run once more without a backward glance till you stumbled into someone.

“Y/N?”

Dean Winchester’s green eyes were looking down at you, in surprise at first, then concern. “Are you okay?”

“I- I…” You couldn’t bring yourself to finish the sentence, your lungs out of breath.

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” he said, slowly leading you towards the steps of a nearby store. “Sit down a minute.”

He perched on the steps next to you as you steadied your breath, his hands still holding you by your shoulder. “I was being followed,” you said. “Those men down the alley.”

Dean’s eyes steeled and he looked in the direction you had just pointed to. There was no one there. Maybe they had gone back the way they had come.

“Did they hurt you?” Anger evident in his voice.

You shook your head. “I was too fast.”

His concerned eyes hovered over your face, ascertaining that you were truly okay. It was something that Sam did, too. See for himself than blindly trust words.

“Those bastards,” he finally spat.

You were beyond glad you ran into Dean. His hand on your shoulder had calmed you more than anything else.

“What’re you doing in this part of the town by yourself?”

“I needed some printouts to confirm my acceptance. I thought I’d take a walk.” Your voice grew smaller with each word, knowing for sure that Dean would chastise you for poor decision making skills. You waited for him to say something along the lines of ‘What were you thinking?” Instead he gently let go of you.

“You think you can walk?” He asked, none of that judgement in his voice.

“Yeah.”

He stood up and offered you a hand. You took it to hoist yourself up.

“My car’s parked a few blocks away,” he said. “I’ll take you home.”

You wanted to protest, not wanting to appear a damsel in distress, but you knew your legs just might give out any moment.

Perhaps he saw it in your eyes or in the set of your mouth. Dean gave you a small smile. “Humour me. I had a rough day, too. Could use the company.”

You were beyond grateful to him for upholding your dignity. You didn’t know many men who did that, who wouldn’t want to jump at the opportunity to play the saviour. Not because they wanted to save someone, but because it would stroke their own ego.

“What happened to your day?”

Dean’s smile widened just a bit. “This asshole supplier came in with a shipment, delivered it at the wrong yard and took up a fight for payment.”

“What a jerk!”

He gave you a ‘I know, right?’ look. “Jackass wouldn’t listen long enough for my man to explain the mistake.”

“Must be hard running a place,” you mused.

“It’s actually a lot similar to running a family.” He looked at you. “You’d know.”

“My grandma had a very small business and she ran the family.”

“Y/N,” he said quietly. “It takes one more than one person to make a family and more than one to run it.”

You knew what he was actually saying, the meaning behind his words. That while gran took care of you, you took care of her, too.

“Why didn’t you ask Jo to drive you to the copy place?” He asked out of the blue, saving you from replying to his earlier remark.

“I didn’t want to disturb her. She’s already so busy running the diner…”

“Jo would kill me if she found out that I told you this, but she worries about you more than she lets on.”

You were taken aback. “I didn’t mean to-”

He clarified quickly. “I’m not accusing you for worrying her. She worries because she loves you.”

“I just don’t want to be a burden,” you murmured looking down. You had reached his car.

“Is that how you feel about being with Sam, too?”

He had cut to the chase quickly, and hit the nail right on the head. You didn’t know how to answer Dean’s question without making it look like you were putting yourself down. You knew that if you lied, he’d know that, too. Dean was very sharp and perceptive when it came to people. More so that Sam.

You decided to tell him the truth.

“No, I don’t feel that with Sam. He chose to be with me without any prelude. He’s accomplished so much in life already and I’m so sure he’ll achieve so much more. I used to wonder what could he possibly want with a small town girl like me, but I don’t think that anymore. He sees me as the best version of myself and I’m beginning to see it, too.”

“You’re making him sound cooler than he is, you do know that, right?” Dean teased lightly.

You rolled your eyes.

Dean opened the door of his car for you and then got into his side.

“As much as I would want you to see it differently, I understand not wanting to be a burden,” he said, revving up the engine. You thought back to everything you knew about Dean and it made sense that he would understand you. There was never any judgement there. “But they’re your family and I get that you’re self-respecting, that you’re used to doing things by yourself. But would it be such a bad thing to let others help you once in a while? Do it for her and Ellen, if not for yourself. I know you love them enough for that.”

His words made up your mind on something you had been debating for a while.

“Dean,” you said unsteadily but upfront, “I need money for college. I know I can sell off Gran’s old house for the money but I want to keep it. I can’t ask aunt El to help me with the diner facing financial issues.

You took a deep breath. “I don’t know why I’m asking this from you. But… with you, I feel like I’m with someone I can trust. Will you be the guarantor for my student’s loan?”

His face jerked towards you instantly.

“You can say no if you want,” you said quickly. “I won’t be upset, at all.”

Dean didn’t answer you immediately. He drove along the lane and turned into Aunt El’s driveway. He turned the ignition off and only then did he look at you.

His eyes were soft and his voice was low. “When Sam was about twelve, he came home one day and announced he was going to be a lawyer. He’s been a smart kid all along, but the look in his eyes… the memory gets to me even now. I knew Bobby didn’t have the sort of money to fund college, so we both worked all the odd jobs we could find to at least start saving.” He laughed as he reminisced.

“Bobby is a stubborn old man. He wanted to pay for Sam’s college. We had to fight it out with him, too and things were somewhat crazy up until this kid scored a straight up full ride to Stanford. We decided to use the college fund to move back here, start the garage. Ended up starting a whole new fund for law school. Turned out he didn’t need that either.”

The faraway look in his eyes vanished and he glanced at you. “What I’m getting at is that the money is still in the account. Use it.”

“Dean!” You gasped.

“Pay it back when you start printing dollar bills.” He held up his hands. “I know you’re not the one for charity. I’m not offering you one. This way you’ll save a lot of interest money.”

This was insane. When Sam had suggested that you ask his brother to be a guarantor you had agreed only because you knew Dean was kind and he wouldn’t put you down in any way. But this was asking for too much. This was his hard earned money.

“I can’t possibly-” you spluttered; he cut you off.

“Yes, you can,” he said firmly. “I was wary of you when you first dropped into this town, seeing how quickly my brother was head over heels for you-” he chuckled. “But not anymore. He couldn’t have found a better person. And look at all that you’ve achieved by yourself. That money can’t be put to a better use. We are all so proud of you.”

You flung yourself into his arms, tears running down your face.

“Shhhh…” he soothed you. “Don’t hold them back, kiddo.”

You didn’t hold back. You clung to his jacket and sobbed into his chest, the way you wanted to when you found out Gran had passed, the way you wanted to at her funeral. It was guttural and raw and instead of flinching away from you, Dean held you tightly against him, his fingers digging into your shoulders.

Slowly your sobs subsided into tired breaths but you didn’t make a move out of his arms. It felt safe here- you were both comforted and understood.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked after a while, voice small.

“Hmm?”

“You said you were wary of me being in Sam’s life. What changed your mind?”

Unexpectedly, Dean laughed. You looked at him in confusion.

“Sam started playing again,” he said simply.

You blinked at him.

“The piano in the house belonged to our mom. She wasn’t an expert in any way, but she loved the sound it made. She used to play simple songs on it for birthdays and on Sundays. In high school Sam took classes, to honor mom’s memory, I guess. He played a lot when he was learning. Ever since he first started college, I haven’t heard him play at all. You come in and suddenly there’s Bethoveen in the air.” He chuckled.

“Whoa.”

“He’s been happier, really. He laughs a lot more now.” Dean titled his head to one side.“That and the fact that you’re pretty freaking awesome.”

Sam was lucky he had a brother to look out for him. “I always wanted an older brother,” you voiced out your childhood hope.

“You know, when Bobby first took us in after the fire, he told me something.”

“What?”

“Family don’t end in blood, sweetheart.” He shrugged, eyes so full of warmth. “You want a brother, you got one.”

You couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face.

Dean didn’t come inside to meet Jo.You waved to him from the door. He waited till you were safely inside before pulling out of the driveway. You watched the sleek black car disappear into the night from the window of your room, thinking about how just in a couple of months Lawrence had started feeling like a home. You thought about how Aunt El made sure that you ate every meal and Jo gave up the nicer mattress for you. You thought of the selfless love Sam showered you with and now here was Dean, offering up his hard earned money without a second thought. You had yearned for a full family all your life. Here, you had found one.

* * *

“No no no…” Meg glared at you in horror. “You absolutely CANNOT wear that!”

You looked down at your ash coloured jeans and the cream cashmere sweater. “What’s wrong with this?” You were offended. This was the best fitting pair of jeans you owned and it was a lovely sweater.

“You’re going to a party, honey,” Meg said slowly, as if talking to a five year old. “Not to the Walmart.”

“Hey!”

“Seriously, Y/N. I’m not letting you out in that thing. This reflects very badly on me as a roommate.”

You rolled your eyes. “Dear God, stop with the melodrama!”

“You think this is melodrama?” She got up from the chair. “This is a fashion suicide. I know you have your weird cold thing, but three drinks down you’re not going to feel anything.”

You put your hands on your hips, staring her down, knowing fully well that you wouldn’t get beyond one beer. Three drinks Y/N thought it was a good idea to dance on tables. You did not want to meet her.

“C’mon, in you go!” Meg didn’t give you an option. She pushed you into your room.

You protested to the best of your abilities. “I’m not wearing a stupid dress!”

“You don’t have to wear a stupid dress. Just something cool.”

“Like what?” You challenged.

Meg sat up on your table. “Show me what you got!”

Resigned, you opened your wardrobe for her to see. There wasn’t much to it, so Meg would have to give up sooner or later anyway.

“What’s that I see?” She was pointing towards a purple satin top, hanging at the very end. It was skimpy, with a plunging neckline and noodle straps. The top had been a gift from the girls at your last office, hoping it would brighten your wardrobe.

“Oh, hell no! I’m not wearing that.”

But Meg’s grin in that moment would have given the Cheshire cat a run for its money. “You’re totally wearing that, Darlin.”

Too late to regret now. You should have thrown out that scrappy blouse ages ago.

“That’s barely any material. You know me. I’ll freeze to death in it.”

“That’s why man invented leather. I’ll be back,”

With that, Meg bounded out of your room and returned with one of the coolest black leather jackets you had ever seen. “You try them on!”

It was abundantly clear she wasn’t going to take a no for an answer so you stalked off to the bathroom, making sure you huffed enough to let Meg know you were mad. She couldn’t have cared less.

Trying it on, you realised it actually looked good on you. The smooth velvet satin was sultry and felt great against your skin. It would have otherwise been too skimpy and you wouldn’t have dared to step out in something like that, but paired with the jacket and your dark jeans, you looked like a badass. Feeling bold, you pulled out the kohl pencil and lined your eyes for good measures, then pulled your hair up into a ponytail.

Meg, who was holding a book in her hands, whistled loudly at the sight of you. “Hotness!” She sang. “My, my, Y/N. Where have you been hiding all that?” She was definitely eyeing the tops of your breasts.

You blushed. “You don’t think this is too much, do you?”

“Oh, hell no! You look like a goddess! The only thing missing is a pair of heels.”

“I don’t own any except the formal ones.”

“There’s my pair right in front of the door,” she pointed.

You tried on the classy black heeled boots. They fit perfectly.

“What do you think?” You did a twirl.

Meg blew you a kiss. “You look mind blowing. There are going to be casualties tonight.”

You had to admit, this felt great. To dress up and go out and about. Even though the party was bound to suck and you knew for a fact that you wouldn’t stay beyond a drink, this feeling of confidence made you want to keep dancing. You wanted to ask Meg to come with you, however, she had already mentioned that she had some plans for the night. She’d been cryptic, too, about what they were. You had your suspicions.

“I didn’t know you owned the first edition of _To kill a mockingbird_ ,” Meg said, showing you the book she had been holding. “This is priceless.”

“Yeah. It’s my favourite book.”

“Must have cost a fortune.”

“It’s a gift.”

“Do you mind if I keep it for a day or two? I promise it won’t leave the apartment,” she reassured.

“Of course.” It was one the only two things from your past life that you couldn’t bring yourself to part with.

“Have fun, Darling!” Meg kissed your cheek as she handed you her purse. It was all very fancy, the jacket, the boots and now this chain strap purse. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

You blew her a kiss and set out into the night. _The Alibi_ was just a couple blocks away. In those unused boots it felt like a mile. During the stretch, your mind kept wandering to what had happened in the courtroom. Sam would be back in Stanford by now and you desperately wanted to contact him to see if the kid was finally free. Several times you opened your mail and almost typed out a message to him, then backspaced it all. The second guessing was killing you, however, you weren’t sure about where you stood with Sam still.

You were so relieved when you finally reached the bar, albeit fifteen minutes late. The place was halfway between fancy and fun with dark interiors and dim light. Everyone was already there. Madison wore a sparkly green number that brought out her complexion perfectly. She looked absolutely beautiful. Lacey and Rebecca wore similarly skimpy outfits. Meredith was slunking in the corner, busy in her phone, sipping on what looked like a cosmo. Brad and the boys were huddled around the pool table. There were three other girls you didn’t recognise. You assumed they were Madison’s sorority sisters.

Madison squealed when she saw you and immediately tackled you in a hug. “Y/N! I’ve been waiting for you since so long.”

“Happy birthday in advance, Maddie!” You kissed her cheek. “You look stunning.”

“You’re the one to talk.” Madison put you at arm’s length, giving you a once over. “You look like a femme fatale. You have a rocking body!”

“So that’s what’s been hiding under the sweaters?” Lacey teased.

You shushed them and pulled out a small package. “This is for you!”

“You shouldn’t have!” Madison said. She opened the box carefully. Inside, were a pair of dangling pearl earrings. They had cost you a bit, but gosh, they were so elegant. You knew they would look lovely on Madison.

“Oh, these are beautiful!” She quickly removed her sparkly pair and replaced them with yours even though they didn’t really match. You were touched.

“This is such a perfect gift, Y/N!”

“Enough with the mushiness,” Lacey complained. “Get her a drink, someone!”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Madison said. “What will you have, Y/N?”

“Just a beer, thanks.”

Rebecca who was holding a glass with something red in it, sauntered over to you. “C’mon! The over-achiever of the class can do more than just a beer, right?”

You were taken aback by her comment. Overachiever? You were hardly that. Is that how everyone saw you?

“If she wants a beer, she gets a beer!” Madison adamantly stalked off to get you one.

You took a seat next to Meredith who gave you a nod of acknowledgement and went back to whatever she was doing on her phone. Sometimes you liked her the best in the unholy trinity that followed Madison everywhere.

“Beer for the lady who is a lovely vision tonight.”

It was Brad. You groaned internally, taking the beer from Madison.

“Gotta say, Y/N,” he slid in next to you. “Never figured you would be the one for beer or satin and leather!”

“What can I say, I’m a new discovery everyday.” The sarcasm was dripping off your tongue, but despite scoring a seat in Stanford, Brad didn’t have the mental ability to figure it out.

“I like that in a girl.”

That was your cue to get out of there.

“Gonna head to the powder room.”

You made your exit as quickly as possible. It was close to twelve. All you had to do was stick around till Madison turned twenty-six and then get the hell out of here.

Easy enough, right?

Not so much.

When you got back from the washroom, everyone at your table was highkey excited, giggling and squealing.

“What is going on?” You asked Lacey.

“Look there,” she pointed out to the other end of the bar. “It’s Mr. Winchester.”

You stomach dropped straight to the ground at the mention of his name. And sure enough, there he was sitting in a corner booth dressed in a plaid shirt and jeans, busy with his phone.

“My GOD will you look at him!” Rebecca screeched. “He looks like a fucking lumberjack.”

“Oh, he can lift me _all day_ for as long as he wants,” Lacey sighed.

“Should we go talk to him?” Rebecca asked, excited. “I mean he’s by himself. I can buy him a drink.”

“It’s a private booth, dummy,” Meredith said, looking away from the screen for the first time. “He hasn’t ordered anything. He’s clearly waiting for someone.”

“Maybe we get to see his lady love today,” sighed Lacey.

Rebecca gave her a scornful look. “There’s no one with him right now. So who cares?”

“Madison will. It’s her party and it’s almost midnight,” you said quietly. “Maybe we should concentrate on her right now.”

In reality, you wanted to throw up. You didn’t want to believe Sam would be seeing someone, let alone stay here to witness his date. All that time you had been worrying about his case, had he been waiting for _this?_

The cake cutting and celebration for Madison was all a blur. There was a lot of hugging, unnecessary screaming and then a round of super expensive drinks.

Rebecca, the absolutely horrible person that she was, decided to go to Sam immediately afterwards and Lacey tagged along. Madison was busy with phone calls, one after another wishing her a happy birthday. It would have been the perfect opportunity to slip out and go home. Instead, with unsteady feet, you walked to the bar.

The bartender had his back to you, so you asked loudly. “Vodka. Neat, please.”

You removed the leather jacket, leaving your shoulders completely bare, the plunging neckline making more skin visible. Next, you yanked the tie out of your hair, letting it spill over your shoulders.

The bartender eyed you appreciatively before putting down the shot in front of you. “This one’s on the house.”

“Thanks!”

You brought the glass to your lips and tipped it back.

“One more!”

“You sure?” He asked, hitching one eyebrow

You grinned, though none of the warmth seeped into your chest. “I am one hundred percent sure.”

“Okay.”

“Oh, hey,” you said, as the distinct squeals of Rebecca laughter erupted from the background. “Make it tequila this time.”


	12. Chapter 12

Sam regretted it the moment he stepped into the bar. The lights were dim, the music was hip and it was too full of people. What was more, a lot of those faces seemed familiar. Maybe he had seen them around the campus? **  
**

Sam found a corner booth, away from the bar counter and the pool table. It was isolated and about as quiet as any table was going to get. He drew out his phone and texted Jody.

_“I’m here. Where are you?”_

Sighing, he locked the screen on his phone. Sam was beyond exhausted. He had stayed up the night, driven for close to twelve hours in total to and fro from LA, and went cut to cut with one of the fiercest attorneys he had ever met. At least, James was out for good. The look on his face at the sight of Sam had been worth everything. Sam had been so scared that he wouldn’t be able to get the kid out. Now that he had, all he wanted to do was fall in bed and not wake up till Sunday. 

Even as that thought took shape, he knew he was lying to himself. More than anything, he wanted to find Y/N and thank her for her help last night, let her know how the hearing went. If someone at Acton Gris had helped him, he would have taken them along for the hearing because the effort deserved it. A part of him had wanted to ask Y/N. She would be allowed, since she was a law student accompanying the attorney, but Sam didn’t think he could handle being in her presence for so long. Besides, she’d had classes in the morning. Either way, she deserved to know the verdict. He had contemplated emailing her, then thought better of it. Maybe he would drop by at the library to see if it was her shift. It was only 12. The library would be open for at least two more hours.

He banished the thought as quickly as it appeared, though, physically shaking his head. He needed to factor in the consideration that she probably didn’t want to keep running into him all the time.

His phone pinged. It was Jody letting him know that Alex was yet to get home from some party of her own and that she would be late, if she came at all. 

Fantastic. Simply fantastic.

He should have just gone to bed. Being in bars at midnight? He was too old for this. It had been Jody’s idea to begin with! She was the one who had made plans for the weekend and was standing him up now.

“Professor Winchester?”

Sam groaned internally before seeing who had called him. It was a glimmeringly clad freshman from his class. 

Could the evening get any worse? He _had_ to run into his students.

“Ohmygosh! I can’t believe you’re here,” gushed the girl. Sam vaguely remembered that her name was Staten.

The other girl whose name Sam didn’t know at all nodded vigorously. “You’re so cool!”

Both of them were bright eyed and obviously tipsy. That was a combination for trouble if Sam had ever seen one. 

He got up. “Nice to see you ladies,” he said sliding out of the booth. “I’m going to step out for just a second. Y’all have fun.”

“Mr. Winchester,” one of them called, but Sam was out the back door. Few years of teaching had taught him enough in that department. During his early days, years ago, when he first started as a visiting faculty, he would insist that the class call him by his first name. He had been ignorant about how it came across and only after a couple of students had made a pass at him had he grown wary and stuck to being addressed by his last name. It never got less weird, having people address him as ‘Mr. Winchester,’ but he was used to it now.

Stepping outside, Sam breathed in the cold air, wondering again what the hell he was doing here.

He pulled out his phone and dialed Jody.

She picked up on the second ring. “I’m so sorry, Sam!” She apologised profusely. “Alex’s tyre gave out and she’s stranded a couple miles out.”

“Shit. Do you want me to pick her up?”

“No, it’s alright,” she reassured. “She’ll feel awful about you driving out to get her. I’m heading out now. Please just wait a little longer. I feel horrible about keeping you waiting, especially since it was my idea.”

He looked at the watch. It was quarter past twelve. “Jody…” he sighed.

“Okay, wait for just fifteen more minutes,” she bargained. “If I’m not there by then, you can go home and I’ll owe you drinks for the rest of the year.”

“Rest of your _life_ , and we have a deal,” Sam smiled despite himself. “Okay. Fifteen minutes.”

“You drive a hard bargain,” She said, clearly amused. “That’s how you become a good lawyer. Okay, Fine.”

Sam laughed.

“You know I love you, Winchester.”

“I know you do!”

Sam put the phone back in his pocket. He wouldn’t have known what to do with his life if Jody hadn’t stepped in and taught him how to look after another person who was solely dependent on him. She was the best friend and mentor he could have asked for.

He slid back inside the bar, determined to avoid any and each student he saw. Especially the drunk ones. Luck was on his side. The whole freshman gang had moved to the pool table, removed from the main area. This late he would have expected the crowd to thin out, but hoards of people were on the dance floor moving their bodies to the rhythm of the song. Taking advantage of the crowd, Sam went over to the bar counter.

“Jack. Neat!” He asked the woman behind the counter. She had long dark hair and a mischievous smile.

“Coming right up, handsome!” She winked.

Sam smiled awkwardly as she slid the glass.

“Hey, Mister! Repeat this one!”

Sam’s head snapped in the direction of the voice. It was loud and bossy and Y/N’s.

“Y/N?” The bartender in front of him squinted at the girl two benches from him, clearly surprised.

Sam would have moved sooner, but he was awestruck at the sight of her. Y/N was wearing a silky, satiny top that was cut low and clung to her body like a second skin over tight jeans and heeled boots. Her hair cascaded over her bare shoulders like a nymph’s. Sam’s throat went dry.

The bartender rushed over to her. “Christ, Y/N!” she said. “What’re you doing here?”

Y/N looked at her with wide, surprised eyes. “Pam! OH MY GOD, PAM! It’s you! 

“Yes, I work here,” the bartender, whose name was apparently Pam, said. “Rob, how much has she had to drink?”

The guy shrugged. “One vodka, three tequillas. I don’t know about before.”

“Y/N?” Pam patted Y/N’s face. “Are you by yourself?”

“Kinda!” Y/N giggled, tossing her hair back in a smooth flip. Sam’s heartbeat spiked at the sight. He absolutely couldn’t wrench his eyes away.

Y/N bent over the counter, then jerked her thumb at the freshman gang and whispered conspiratorially. “I’m with those guys over there, but I don’t think they care if I wander off. Can I tell you a secret? Most of them are douchebags anyway.”

“Rob!” Pam barked. “Do we have a standby? Rinny? Or just anyone else?”

“It’s just us tonight.”

“Well, fuck!” Pam swore.

“Y/N, honey,” she tried to get Y/N to listen to her, but Y/N was already trying to sit up on the bar, blowing kisses at Pam. “You’re the best, Pam. Just the absolute best and I love how much you love my cookies.”

“Everyone loves your cookies, honey, but you need to get down.”

“Okay… Okay,” Y/N winked. She slipped as she tried to get down from the counter. Reflexively Sam moved, catching her before she crashed to the ground.

“I got you, don’t worry,” he said in a low voice only to her and she looked up at him with wide confused eyes. 

“Hey, get your hands off of her, Mister.” Pam hissed, looking scarily angry. “I said, let go of her. Right now.”

Sam did so immediately, but Y/N didn’t let go of his shirt. “I know her,” he tried to explain to Pam, who looked like she was on the verge of calling the bouncers.

“Yeah, that’s right, you know her,” Pam grimaced. “Very believable.”

“I swear, I know her,” Sam said, wildly trying to explain. “Her name’s Y/N Y/L/N. She’s a law student at the university. First year, hails from Kansas and feels insanely cold.” Sam started spewing random facts he could think of. “Her favourite book is _To kill a mockingbird_. She bakes amazing muffins-”

She likes her coffee with very little milk, is scared of ducks and has a birthmark in the middle of her lower back. She likes listening to classical music and waking up early…

Meanwhile, Y/N was still looking at him in wonderment, shushing herself.

“How do you know all that about her?” Pam looked at him with suspicion and mingled curiosity.

“I’m her-” it hurt to say- “ her friend.”

She still didn’t look completely convinced.

“Y/N?” Pam asked the girl in Sam’s arms. “You know this man?”

 _Don’t be that far gone_ , Sam prayed internally. _Please don’t be that far gone._

“Pfftt,” Y/N scoffed, with such force that she lost her footing again. “It’s Sam! I’d sooner forget myself than not know him! What sort of dumb question is this?”

Sam.

She had said his name. It had caressed her lips. Was it even possible to be jealous of your own name?

Pam raised her eyebrows.

“Look,” she said, “I can’t leave my shift to drop her home and no one I can call will be up this late. Y/N clearly knows you. Do you think you can drop her home?”

“I-I don’t know where she stays!”

Pam quickly wrote down an address. “It’s just a couple blocks away. I’m going to call her cell in a while, so you better not try anything funny.”

Sam wanted to roll his eyes, but he was too terrified at the prospect of being left alone with Y/N. He glanced around to see a couple of looks coming their way.

“Yeah, I’ll take her,” he said finally. “The hangover will hit her hard in a while, it’s better that she’s home then. Trust me, I know.”

Pam took one look from his face to Y/N wrapped around his torso. “Thanks, man.”

He nodded and then slowly guided Y/N out. “C’mon. Let’s get you home.”

“You know where I live?” She asked, tilting her head to one side.

“I do now.” Fortunately or unfortunately it was right next to Sam’s street. 

He adjusted her so that she was tucked under his side. Her fingers were still boldly clutching at his undershirt, sending shocks of sensation throughout his body. 

“This way, c’mon,” He guided her forward.

“Stop pushing me. I. Can’t. Walk. Any. Faster!” She whined. “These shoes suck.”

“Okay, let’s just sit for a while.” He slowly steered her to a bench on the street. It wasn’t right outside the bar, hence, out of clear view. Sam lowered her onto the bench and she promptly pulled her feet up, trying to slide the zipper on her shoes. They honestly looked like a death trap of sorts. The zipper stuck out adamantly as she yanked at it with all her might.

Hands trembling, he caught hold of hers. “Wait. Let me.”

Slowly, with a steadier hand, Sam dragged down the zippers on both her shoes- carefully, to not touch her skin- freeing her feet. She drew into herself, massaging the reddened skin on the arch and the back of her heel. 

“Stupid Meg,” she muttered. “Shouldn’t have let her put me in these.” 

She massaged her toes. “It hurts.”

“Will you let me take a look at it?” He asked hesitantly. Y/N twisted her body and put both her feet straight into his lap. 

“Here! Look all you want.”

Her hair was fluttering lightly in the wind and despite the chill, she wasn’t reaching for the leather jacket. Looking at her was like looking at the sun. He wanted to, but couldn’t, because it hurt at the same time. The satin of her blouse was kissing her soft skin in all the right places.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Y/N teased collusively. She scooted closer, almost sitting completely in his lap now. “Can I tell you a secret? I think about it, too.”

Sam pushed her away lightly and God it hurt to do it, but she wasn’t in her senses right now. Sober, she wouldn’t have wanted any of this.

“We should get you home!” He said in a tight voice.

“No!” She was adamant. “Why are you in such a hurry to get away from me?”

Oh the irony. “ _You_ were the one who left _me,_ Y/N.” 

Y/N not having heard a word of it was scooting closer to him again. She laid her head on his shoulder, and snaked her arms around his waist. Sam stilled, not even daring to breathe.

“Let’s just stay here forever. You and me.” She laughed all of a sudden. “This is literally the best dream I’ve ever had. I can actually _feel_ you.” She hugged him tighter to prove her point. “See?”

“Is this what your dreams are made up of?” 

“The good ones, yeah,” she sighed tiredly. “But mostly they’re just bad and I’m cold and there’s so much water, Sam. There was so much water.”

Suddenly she started shivering and Sam pulled the jacket over her shoulders.

She looked up with tears in her eyes. “Sam, the water! And there’s so much glass. It hurts.”

A deep pain and grief that he hadn’t felt in years threatened to swallow Sam whole. “Oh, baby,” he said, at last throwing his arms around her. “It’s not real. It happened a long time ago.”

“I can’t breathe. There’s too much water.” Her words were slow and slurred. Despite that, the picture she painted was horrifying.

The memories all flashed before his eyes like it had happened yesterday. But he refused to go under. Not now.

Sam allowed himself to comfort her and be comforted by her. In this one thing, they were together. He held her as close as he had dreamed for years, yet not truly believing that this was actually happening. She smelled just the same, and the way her body curved into his hadn’t changed at all.

Sam held her like that for an immeasurable time. It felt both like an eternity and mere seconds all at once. A crazed traveller wouldn’t be more desperate for an Oasis than Sam felt for her touch. And knowing that this would end soon, that these were stolen moments made it heaven and hell at the same time.

“Y/N,” he tried again. “We need to get you home.” I _need_ to get you home.

She didn’t reply.

“Are you asleep?”

“Yes!” She muttered and in spite everything Sam had to stifle a laugh. 

She had no footwear on, after getting herself out of those insane shoes. Sam removed his flip flops and slid them under her feet. They were way too big, but it was better than nothing. 

“Up you come.” He hoisted her slowly to her feet.

“Whoa!” She said, “everything is spinning so fast.”

“Just hold on to me. The spinning will go away.” He guided her slowly. “This way now.”

Her grasp on his shoulder slipped, pulling his shirt down with him.

“Oooohhh fancy,” she snickered, trying to touch the thin chain around his neck.

Sam fixed his shirt with the other hand so it wasn’t visible. She didn’t need to know.

It must look absurd, the two of them walking down the street. Sam, barefoot, carrying a pair of her heels in one hand and holding her by the waist with the other. Meanwhile, Y/N was humming lightly to herself, giggling at silly things, slipping and sliding in his flip flops.

At long last, they reached the address that Pam had given. Sam knew the building, he walked past it everyday to get home. The building had a solid, high compound wall, covered in vines. Keeping a tight hold on Y/N, he pushed the wrought iron gate. It creaked as it opened, leaving Sam staring at a beautiful front yard. There was curving shrubbery around the small circular garden and a mermaid shaped fountain flowing water in a circular basin with seating around it.

“Hahahaaa Judgy Judy isn’t too pleased with us,” Y/N told him sagely. “She hates people who drink even more than people who turn up late.”

“Why _did_ you drink anyway?” He asked. “You don’t even like doing it.”

Y/N broke off, stumbling into the path. She glared at him. “Oh, so it’s okay for you to go out on dates with other people but it’s not okay for me to drink?”

That’s what she thought? That he had been in the bar for a date? Was that why she had drank?

Sam’s mind was reeling. If what she was saying was true, it meant that it mattered to her what Sam did or didn’t do with his life. Unless she still cared.

“You really think I would do _that?_ ” Abruptly, he was angry. If she cared enough to be mad with him, why had she left him to begin with?

Y/N had already moved on from the conversation. She was staring up at the mermaid’s face.

“Sam? You remember that time we went to the fair and rode the ferris wheel?”

He did remember. “You fainted immediately after.”

“Yeah, this feels exactly like that…” Y/N staggered on the spot and Sam rushed to catch her. The minute his hands found her arm, she threw up spectacularly on the front of his shirt, retching till there wasn’t anything left. Then, she promptly passed out in his arms.

He stood there for a second, looking about him, but no help was going to arrive at 2 in the night.

This was bad, very very bad. He had hoped to drop her home and then go back to his own place to wallow about how unfair the world was. What was he supposed to do now?

He had no clue if she stayed by herself. He couldn’t just leave her by herself when she was sick.

Slowly, he led her to the seating around the fountain. She laid down on it, groaning lightly. 

Sam removed his shirt, bundled it up and using some of the water from the fountain, wiped the puke from his jeans and Y/N’s feet along with his flip flops. Then he bent down and swooped her in his arms, carrying her inside the building. Getting into the lift and to her apartment was easy enough. Wrestling the key out of the purse and then unlocking the door all the while supporting her wasn’t so much.

It was pretty clear to Sam that there was no one else in the apartment when he entered. All that noise would have brought someone out by now. He barely looked at the living room, before laying Y/N down on the sofa there. There was a kitchenette to the right side. Sam poured a glass of water, added a spoon of sugar and a pinch of salt after looking through the jars. He walked back to where Y/N was curled up on the sofa and coaxed her to drink it.

She made a face, refusing to take a sip.

“Trust me, you’ll thank me tomorrow.”

“No.”

She was so stubborn sometimes. “Please? For me?”

“For you?” Her expression was guileless, it was almost his undoing, but Sam pushed on. “Yes, for me.”

She took the glass from him and downed it in one go, distaste clear on her expression.

The phone started ringing right when she put the glass down. Sam had to fish it from her purse. The caller ID read ‘Pamela Barnes.’

“Here,” Sam handed the phone to Y/N. “It’s for you.”

“Hello!” She sang. “Yeah, yeah… I’m home…”

Sam didn’t hang around for the rest of the conversation. He returned the glass to the kitchen and made more of the Sugar-salt solution in a bottle.

Y/N was idly playing with a lock of her hair.

“Can we go to bed now? Please?” She mumbled drowsily.

“ _You_ ,” Sam stressed “are going to bed. Which one is your room?”

Sleepily, she pointed towards the door next to the kitchenette. He lifted her once more in his arm, thinking how bizarre all of this was as he walked towards the room. It felt nothing short of euphoric to hold her like this, like he was on some sort of wild once in a lifetime adventure, even if touching her like this used to be normal for him once upon a time. He gently laid her down on the bed. She stretched out on the sheets immediately, a smile on her lips.

He could have stared and stared. Sam decided to take one long look at her, memorising the exact color of her hair, the fullness of her lips and the rhythm of her breaths. Just as he turned to leave, Y/N’s hand shot out to grab the hem of his T-shirt.

“Why? Why did it happen to us?” She said, her face drawn in lines of anguish. “We were good people. You still are. Then, why?”

Sam took a deep breath. “Because life isn’t fair. You of all people should know that by this point. And I’ve hardly been a good person since.” 

“Shhhhh….” She put a finger to her lip. “You’re the best, Sam. You always have been.”

“Then why did you leave me? Why couldn’t you trust me enough to stay? Have enough faith in me to know that I could make it okay for us? I loved you more than anything, Y/N. And you left me anyway.” He knew full well that she wouldn’t remember a thing in the morning, she was barely even listening now. So how did it matter what he said?

“Don’t go,” she moaned. 

“Y/N… you know I can’t stay.”

“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”

In an odd twisted way, it was the truth. Nothing was right when she wasn’t with him.

“Please, Sam,” she sighed. “Don’t leave me. Promise me.”

He gave in. How could he not? “I promise,” he said finally. “I’ll stay tonight.” 

She smiled contentedly and her breathing evened out soon after.

Slowly, Sam disentangled his t-shirt from his grip.

In the bathroom, he washed his bundled up shirt, cleaning it completely, then used it to wash off whatever was left on his jeans and t-shirt. Thankfully, Y/N’s clothes hadn’t been spoilt and didn’t need any cleaning. The apartment had a beautiful balcony that overlooked the garden below. He hung his shirt on the railing to dry it in the breeze. 

Sam checked on Y/N once more under the guise of placing the water bottle next to her bed. She was splayed wildly now. The straps of her blouse had slid further down her arm, revealing the tops of her breasts. He looked away. As lightly as he could, Sam freed the covers from beneath her and drew them over her, tucking her comfortably underneath them. Then he made his way to the living room sofa, closing Y/N’s bedroom door after her. 

The sofa was much too small to accommodate him, but Sam managed to lie on his back, legs folded and body wedged between the two armrests. After a while of twisting and turning, he rested his head on one armrest and threw his legs over the other, staring at the apartment walls and decorations. Most of it was too delicate, like the filigree on the curtains and the carved screens dividing part of the kitchenette from the rest of the living room. That certainly wasn’t Y/N’s taste. Either it came with the apartment or her room mate had put it there. There were some things, however, that were distinctly Y/N- the flowers and plants in the balcony, the solid wood coffee stand and the classy oven. The little China decorating the kitchen bar must’ve been her grandmothers. Nothing… absolutely nothing in the house proved that he had ever played a part in her life. Sam decidedly curbed the disappointment and bitterness he felt.

So, she had moved on from him. Hadn’t the past month taught him as much? 

A month ago he wouldn’t have believed that he’d end up a room away from a very drunk Y/N. So close, yet so far. He closed his eyes, recalling how it felt to have her arms around his waist, feel the press of her body against his as he lifted her in his arms. He could live out the rest of his life holding onto those memories, even if it never happened again, even if she never remembered it…

“Who the fuck are you?”

Sam’s eyes snapped open. A girl was standing over him with a ferocious expression.

He sat up groggily, disoriented about his surroundings. Who was this girl?

“I asked who the fuck are you and what are you doing in my apartment?”

Sam groaned, blinking his eyes in the still dark room. “I’m Sam. I helped Y/N home last night.”

“Where’s she? Is she okay?” 

The shift in her tone was sudden, from angry to concerned.

“Yeah, she’s fine,” Sam yawned. “She just had too much to drink.”

“And how do _you_ know her?”

“I’m her- “ It physically ached to not say it. “I’m her… friend.”

The girl, who Sam assumed was her roommate, Meg, raised an eyebrow. “Friend, huh? How come she’s never talked about you before?”

Because she doesn’t care anymore.

Suddenly Sam was very tired. “Look, I’ve known her since a long time. We lost touch a while ago. I met her at college.”

Meg didn’t seem very convinced. She harrumphed and crossed her arms.

“I’m going to head out, now that you’re back,” he said, standing up and straightening his back. It was completely screwed. He walked over to the balcony and retrieved his now dried shirt. Meg eyed it dubiously.

“You didn’t try anything with her, did you?”

Again, the irony of someone else being concerned that he of all people would try to harm Y/N twisted his mouth into a bitter smirk.

“Look, mister…” Meg started and Sam put his hands up. He was too exhausted to hold this argument. 

“I just put her to bed. That’s all,” he said. “Heads up, she has terrible hangovers. You might want to keep the bathroom accessible and the Advil ready.”

With that he stalked out of the room. 

It wasn’t a long walk to his home from there, barely even five minutes, but Sam’s head was buzzing with thoughts. Last night everything had been so hurried and he was the only one who could have helped her out. But what now?

He and Y/N had barely started talking. He still didn’t know what was going on in her head. Last night had changed all of that, at least for him. If it had been hard to not think about her before, it was damn well impossible now. She was consuming his every thought, shadowing every emotion. What if she remembered everything she had said last night? What if she’d actually meant those things?

_“Don’t go”_

_“Please… Nothing’s right when you’re not here.”_

_“Please, Sam, Don’t leave me. Promise me.”_

Each time his name had fallen off her lips, it was like she was resurrecting his long dead heartbeat. He wanted to dare, he wanted to hope and believe that there was some chance.

But what if she didn’t remember anything at all? Sam knew that he would die inside if that happened. It was one thing to not feel hope, and another altogether to kill it with one’s own hands. 

His mind was a cacophony of noises and emotions all warring against each other as he reached his house. On the door steps, sat a solitary figure, waiting for him.

“Jody?”

The sky was just starting to lighten. What was she doing here?

He frowned at her, wondering what on earth could have brought her here this early in the morning. She stared back evenly; there was none of the usual warmth in her eyes, instead they were full of distrust and disappointment.

“Jody, is everything okay?” 

“You tell me, Winchester,” she said, coming to stand right next to him, her stature severe.

“I-I don’t know what you mean.”

“Really?” She spat. “Don’t you think you’ve been acting differently? At first I thought, being by yourself was getting to you.”

“Jody, I seriously don’t understand.”

“Fine I’ll cut to the chase. Where were you last night?”

It was the last thing Sam had expected. He couldn’t tell her the truth. Where would he even start with the truth? “I was-”

She raised her hand and Sam flinched at the hostile expression on her face. “Save it, Sam. I know exactly what you were doing last night. I saw you sitting on the bench outside the bar with that girl.”

Sam jerked upright.

“I’ve known you for years, Sam. Years. I taught you everything I knew. I’ve never been prouder of any student I’ve had and this is what you do with all that trust? This is how you abuse your power?”

Her words rang louder than they should have in Sam’s ears. “Jody-”

“Don’t even try to make excuses. At first, when I saw her in your office, I didn’t think anything of it. Sure, she looked close to tears, but a lot of freshmen are always anxious. But then I saw you in the library with her. The way you looked at Y/N? That’s not how a teacher looks at their student!” Jody looked disgusted. “And tonight? Y/N was clearly drunk, for Christ’s sake! How can you possibly justify the way you were holding her?”

“Because she’s my WIFE!” He shouted, breathing hard, feeling the heat coming off of his face. “I married her and I love her!” 

It was beyond cathartic to finally say those words out loud. Up until this point Sam hadn’t realised that since he had seen Y/N in his class, those very words had been strangling him, poisoning him. Now that he had finally said them, the strength in his legs gave away. He sat down on the steps with a thud.

Jody’s face had gone very white. “Sam…”

“Tonight was nothing more than me helping a girl who needed it. Nothing more than that,” he said through gritted teeth, blinking rapidly at the wetness on his lashes. “You know I respect you, Jody, but even you don’t get to tell me if I can hold my own wife.”

She sat down next to him, now at a complete loss of words. “Is this the same girl…?”

Sam nodded, unable to form words.

“Sam, I’m so sorry,” she said, drawing him close. “I didn’t know. You should have said something.”

“Said what?” He said through a thick throat, angry with himself for showing weakness now when he had held it together for so long. “That my wife who walked out on me years ago because she didn’t trust me to save our marriage is suddenly back? As my student after six years? Is that what I should have declared when I didn’t even know if she wanted to see my face? Is that what I should’ve said?”

“Oh, you sweet boy. I’m so sorry,” Jody ran her hands over his shoulders. “Sorry that you’ve been suffering and sorry that I doubted you at all. You don’t need to say anything now. C’mere.”

Firmly she drew him towards her and threw her arms around his neck. Sam hugged back, closing his eyes tightly so that the tears rolled over into the cotton of her shirt.

“Shhhh…” she said. “It’s going to be alright.”

Sam didn’t know if there was any truth in her words, but he allowed himself to be comforted, allowed himself to draw some warmth from his oldest friend here. Allowed himself to start healing.


	13. Chapter 13

** 21st October 2008 **

“Why are you already sorting your books?” Jo asked suspiciously. “You still have two whole months before you move to college.”

“I’m not sorting anything. I’m just cleaning the shelf. You should try it sometimes, you know.”

“Why are there two piles then?”

You pursed your lips. Jo hadn’t been too far off with her guess. “So it’s easy later on.”

“You _are_ packing! Aren’t you?”

You got up from front of the shelf and went to sit by your cousin on the bed. She was sulking with her feet drawn up against her chest, chin resting on her knees. 

“It’s always better to be prepared.”

“I don’t want to be prepared,” she pouted. “It’s only been a few months and you’re already leaving.”

“There’s still two months left,” you reminded her in her own words. “That’s plenty of time.”

“Only two. We’re just starting to be sisters, after all this time and you’ll be going away.”

“We’ll still be sisters, no matter what.” 

You would miss her, too. So much. It was incomprehensible to you how close you had become with her. Now, you couldn’t imagine a day passing by without talking to her. It made you feel sorry for having spent so many years of your life not being best friends with Jo. 

All of sudden, your gut clenched and you scrambled out of the bed, hurrying to the bathroom. With a worried shout Jo followed you, and found you throwing up in the toilet. 

“Oh, gosh,” she leaned in to hold your hair out of your face as you hurled repeatedly. She even rushed to the kitchen to get you a glass of water once you were done.

“What is up with you?” Jo gave you a concerned look. “You said you were feeling dizzy yesterday and now this?”

“I don’t know,” you huffed in a low voice, feeling weak. “I think it’s the acid.”

“No. You don’t get to think. Get changed, I’m driving you to the hospital.”

“Jo,” you protested, but she glared down at you

“I’m not taking a no for an answer, Y/N. C’mon!”

The drive to the hospital actually made you feel better. The fresh air eased the nausea. You wanted to ask Jo to turn around, but she clearly seemed to be on a mission. It was very heartwarming to see her so worried about something this silly.

She sat flipping through a magazine in the common waiting area while you stepped into the examination room. 

The doctor asked all the generic questions about your eating habits and consumption of outside food. You answered all them without much thought until one of his questions brought you up short.

“Is your period delayed?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you said slowly. “It was due three weeks ago.” You had been blaming the delay on the stress of processing your admissions.

“Have you been sexually active in the past month?”

You jerked upright, not expecting the question, but answered with a short ‘yes.’

He nodded, then handed you a small plastic container from one of his drawers.. “I’ll need you to deposit your urine sample with the nurse.”

“Why?” You asked, even though you already knew the answer to that.

“To check if you’re pregnant.”

“But I can’t be,” you mumbled. You and Sam had been careful each time with protection.

“It’s just to be sure, Y/N.” He paused and then quickly scribbled something on a piece of paper. “Hand this in to the nurse as well, for blood work.”

_Okay, this is just a formality. It doesn’t mean anything._

You followed the procedure as the doctor had said and waited by yourself for a long time till you were called in again.

He looked cautious. “Have a seat, Y/N.”

“Is something wrong, doctor?” It wasn’t hard to see the worried look in his eyes.

He got to the point directly. “Your results came back. You’re pregnant.”

The doctor had certainly braced himself for a loud reaction. He didn’t get one.

“Are you sure?” You asked, the quiet tone of your own voice surprising you.

The look he gave you was sympathetic. “I’m positive. You’ll have to come back in the evening for an ultrasound. We’ll know for sure then. I’ll fix an appointment for you.”

You nodded, thanked him and walked out of his office.

“Hey, everything’s okay?” Jo asked when she saw you. “You were gone for a long time. I was starting to get worried…” Her voice faltered at the expression on your face.

The waiting area was nearly empty save for a man who was sleeping in the corner.

You sat down next to her with a plop. “I’m pregnant.”

“What?” There was the loud reaction the doctor had been expecting. “You and Sam… You didn’t use…?”

“Of course we used protection,” you snapped. “He’s not careless and I’m not stupid.”

You could see the wheels go around in her head, thinking the same things you had been a while ago. Accidents happen all the time. It had just never occurred to you that it could have to you.

“Are you okay?” Concern was plain on her face.

You whispered the truth, “I don’t know.”

Jo nodded to herself. “Let’s get you home.”

The car ride was quiet, to the point where you could concentrate on nothing except Jo nervously tapping on the wheel. You barely remembered walking back into the house, let alone sitting on the sofa. Jo found you there when she couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“Say something, Y/N. I’m worried out of my mind here.”

“I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to feel.”

She sat down next to you. “Okay, first things first. Do you know if you want to go ahead with this?”

You shook your head. You were nineteen. The only thing you wanted to think about was how you were going to college, had a loving family and an awesome boyfriend. Not this. Bringing a whole new life into this world had always been part of your rosy dreams of a perfect future. You would be lying to yourself if you didn’t admit that once or twice you had blushed to yourself at the thought of having this with Sam. You had visualised the rosy tinted image of a small child being swung in Sam’s arms, giggling as he laughed while you stood in a corner watching with happiness. 

You knew those were the whimsical passing thoughts of a naive girl. You had much to learn from life and the world. You had barely learned to live by yourself, not even independent yet. How could you take care of a whole new life?

But the thought of dropping the pregnancy wouldn’t even take shape in your mind.

“I don’t know, Jo,” you whispered, your expression folding on itself. “I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

Slowly, she closed the distance, putting her arms around you. Her voice was kind as she said, “I’m here for you.” She hesitated. “This might not be my place to say, but I think you shouldn’t tell Sam about this before you figure out for yourself what _you_ want to do.”

You frowned at her. Why was she saying this?

“This isn’t about him, Y/N,” Jo said, her eyes anxious. “First, this is about you. He’s not going to have to carry the child for nine months. You’re going to have to. This will change your life in a way that he can only hope to understand. I’m not asking you to hide it from him. Hell no! But be clear about what you want. Trust me, you’ll be able to talk to him better.”

“I don’t know how he’ll take this.”

Jo’s brow furrowed and she tightened her arms around you. “He’s a good guy. I’m sure things will be okay.”

“Jo?”

“Hmmm?”

“Will you come to the doctor’s with me in the evening?”

She kissed your forehead. “Of course, sweetie.”

You slept on the sofa, trying to not think about what you were going to tell Sam or what you were going to do. It was only in the evening, when Jo nudged you, that you woke up.

“It’s time for your appointment.”

Jo held your hand all through the drive and when you lay on the bed. The gynaecologist was a kind woman with a genial smile. She didn’t talk much, which you appreciated very much as she maneuvered the probe.

“There it is,” she said, gesturing towards the screen. “You’re about five weeks in.”

“Where?” You asked, craning your neck, your hand gripping Jo’s painfully.

“Right there,” the doctor pointed. “This tiny dot.”

It was a small… speck. The screen around it was shuffling every so lightly but this small speck that was constant. A whole new life. You let go of Jo’s hand and she looked down at you.

“Look!” You whispered, tears rolling down the side of your face. “It’s so _small._ ”

Jo’s face was very white, and it looked like she was trying to not cry.

“I’ll give you two time,” said the doctor, leaving the room.

“I can’t do this,” you said, voice firm. “I can’t lose the baby.” How could you? Wasn’t this something you had always wanted? A family of your own? How could you bail at the first opportunity to have one now? There was college and there was an ambition. They would always be there for you. But this little thing, this baby was already so precious.

Jo gently stroked your hair. “Are you sure?” She asked softly and you nodded. 

“Look at it. I already love-” your voice broke.

Jo swooped down to hug you tightly, like she could protect you from all your troubles by keeping you in her embrace. “I’m so happy for you.”

Right there, having her hold you was more strengthening that anything she could have said. It felt right to keep the baby, the feeling that something was horribly wrong, which had been plaguing you since morning was settled now. Jo was right to have asked you to decide first. Whatever Sam had to say, wouldn’t change what you wanted. 

You asked Jo to drop you off in front of Sam’s house.

“You don’t want me to stick around? she asked, concerned. “I’ll just wait outside in the car.”

You shook your head.

“Go on. I’ll be home in a while.”

She searched your face for any sign of doubt. When she didn’t find any, she said, “You call me if you want me to come get you.”

“Okay.”

You watched her drive away before stepping onto the porch. There were several missed calls and messages from Sam throughout the day. It wasn’t like you not text or call back. 

He opened the door on the second bell. The moment the door swung, you were wrapped in his arms, tight, your face buried in his chest.

“Y/N,” he breathed, “Why didn’t you answer the phone? I was so worried.”

You didn’t answer, choosing to cling to him and draw strength for what you were about to say. A shiver ran down your spine at the thought.

Sam whisked you inside quickly, leading you to the sofa.

“I know I’m overreacting, but I had the weirdest feeling that something wasn’t right with you. Don’t think I’ve gone crazy overnight.”

He sat down opposite to you and you noticed something was different. He was dressed in a plain grey t-shirt and the usual jeans, his hair more unkempt that usual. But his eyes shone with this bright excitement.

“Sam… I have to tell you something…” you started slowly

Sam cut you off. “I have to tell you something, too!” He said, practically bouncing. It occurred to you that the bright light was ill-concealed happiness. He was really trying hard to look like everything was normal.

You had to tell him.

“Sam, listen to me-”

He grabbed you and pulled you in for a deep kiss, surprising you with the intensity. You let him fold his fingers in your hair, let his lips travel from the corner of your mouth to your ear and back.

“I really have to tell you something,” you said urgently against his lips.

“No. My turn first!” he exhaled. When he pulled back and looked at you, there was hope on his face. “I cleared the bar, Y/N. I’m moving to New York!”

You were stunned. Dumbfounded.

“The result just came out. We’re both moving to the East coast now.”

Tears pressed your eyes. This was his dream. To land a job in that big firm and be near you. Just when he had gotten it all, you were about to pull the rug from under his feet.

“Hey?” He placed his palm against your cheek. “Aren’t you happy? This is what both of us wanted, right?” The happiness in his eyes was slowly being replaced by apprehension.

You grabbed his hand and held on to it. “Listen to me, Sam…” Your voice broke, unable to continue.

“Hey, is everything okay?” 

Worry.

You took a deep breath and looked down at your intertwined fingers. “I’m pregnant.”

Sam’s hand slipped from yours. Your heart sank, the silence that followed, too much to bear.

You didn’t dare look up, scared of what you’ll see on his face. You could almost sense his mind running, going through the _what?_ and _how?_ of the situation. He didn’t voice those questions, didn’t shout them out loud the way Jo had. 

It was something you had always loved about Sam. How he didn’t jump to ask the questions, taking his time to find out if he could answer them himself, first. Accidents happen, he could guess as much. _‘What now?’_ was the question you were afraid of.

“Y/N/N,” he said softly, startling you into looking at him. He had only once called you by that name. If you had expected him to look disappointed or angry, it wasn’t what you found. He looked like he was trying very hard to not look shocked, as if he was doing his best to appear in control.

When he spoke, his voice was smooth, deliberately slow. “What do _you_ want?”

“I-I want to keep the baby.”

Again, he made the effort to hide his shock. “Are you _sure?”_

You nodded. “You aren’t mad?” You asked quietly.

“Mad?” He moved back slightly. “How could I be mad? This is… this is… wow.”

“I know you want to move to New York and I swear I won’t stand in the way of your career. But, I want to do this.”

“Then we are doing this,” his tone was firm.

You looked up at him with tears in your eyes. “Sam, you’re not understanding. There won’t be a ‘we’ here. I can’t ask you to give up all of your dreams for me and the baby.” 

Both of his hands came to cup your face. “Screw the job. _You_ are my dream, Y/N! I was so hell bent on clearing the bar so I could be close to _you_. I’m already a Lawyer. I’ve been through college. There’s nothing more for me except a job now. You are the one who is on the verge of making a career, who has acceptances in hand. You’ll be affected more than me… Besides, how big a jerk do you think I am to ask you to do this by yourself?”

That broke you, a sob leaving your lips, tearing rolling down your face now. “I’m so scared,” you whispered.

And you were beyond terrified. A baby. The enormity of the situation was only beginning to dawn on you.

“Hey…” Sam said, lightly, “We can do this. You’re incredible… and I?”- scoff- “I’m pretty selfish. No way I’m missing out on any of this.”

“What about your job, then?” You said, suddenly panicked that Sam wasn’t getting the extent of this. “What about my college?”

“Shhhh…” Next second you were pressed against his chest. “Don’t worry. I can move to North Carolina, where your college is. What’s another bar exam, huh?” 

“But-”

“We don’t have to make a decision tonight,” he said, cutting you off. “We’ll figure something out. As long as we’re together.”

When you still didn’t respond, he kissed the top of your head. “You trust me, don’t you?”

“More than anything in this world.”

You felt wetness at the side of your temple, where Sam’s cheek rested. “You’ll be a wonderful mother. This kid is going to be the luckiest kid in the whole damn world.”


	14. Chapter 14

** 27th October 2008 **

“Where are we going?” 

You peeped out of the window. Even though the landscape was familiar, you had never been to this side of the town. Sam was following the highway, so it was easy to keep up with the direction.

“You’ll see,” he gave you a sideways smile.

Contrary to what you had believed, Sam did own a car. Actually, it was more of a minitruck, but a mode of transport nonetheless. He said it was mostly parked out at Dean’s garage, since Sam hadn’t been around to drive it.

You hadn’t even known that the father of your to be child owned a car, till he turned up in Aunt El’s driveway to pick you up today, honking loudly with a huge smile on his face. The truck was nowhere as smooth as Dean’s Baby, but Sam seemed to like it. You rolled down the window and closed your eyes as the wind rushed through your hair.

The events of the past week came to your mind. The way Sam had stood by you, his hand tightly gripping yours as you broke the news to Ellen. She hadn’t been happy, not even a bit. Sam took all her anger head on for knocking up her niece, without saying back a word. After she had exhausted herself and plopped on the sofa, face in her hands, Sam had kneeled by her and assured her that he had every intention of taking care of you and the baby, that you were his responsibility now. Even though aunt El hadn’t responded to him, she had mellowed out eventually, and started smiling even. In fact, the night before, she had come up to you to advise you about the terrible morning sickness you were suffering through. 

The first trimester seemed to be a whole new ordeal in itself. The dizziness and bloating you could take. The vomiting however…

Jo had been a blessing through all this. She helped you in the mornings and after your aunt had stormed into her room, she had hugged Sam very tightly and congratulated him with a very sincere smile on her face. The scene brought tears to your eyes. 

The one reaction that had actually blown your mind was Dean, who had stormed in the next morning and scooped you in his arms, his booming laughter brightening the house. You didn’t think you had ever seen _anyone_ that happy. Even now, the memory of his hug and his words brought a smile to your lips.

_I’m going to be an uncle! Oh, this is awesome. YOU are awesome!_

“What are you thinking?”

You turned your head to see Sam smiling at you. He smiled a lot lately, like he was happy every minute of the day.

“Nothin.”

You could watch him smile like that all day long, the dimples digging into his cheeks and tongue peeking out to lick his bottom lip.

“Look out the window.”

You did and were awestruck by the expanse of water stretching along the highway.

“That’s the Clinton lake,” he said. “Dean used to bring me here for fishing. I was awful at it.” He scrunched his nose.

You gazed out at the clear blue of the water and the varying shades of green surrounding it. It was serene in a timeless way. Sam parked the truck along a shoulder and helped you down.

“Sam, this is beautiful,” you breathed, taking in the perfect spot. It was the edge of the lake and the water lapped at the edges of what looked like a stretch of rocky land… almost a beach but not quite because it graduated into soft grass followed by a stretch of shadowy trees. 

“Come.” He pulled you by your arm, leading you to one of the biggest trees. You watched as he laid the blanket you had brought along and smoothed it out for you to sit on. 

Sam busied himself with pulling out the eatables from the basket- A bag of cookies, two packed sandwiches- Chicken, because Tuna made you sick these days- fresh fruit juice and cheese and cracker, carefully laying them out. It didn’t miss your attention that his hands were shaking slightly. He was nervous.

It was predictable. Afterall, he had only found out a week ago that he was going to be a father.

“I’ve been thinking,” you said, slowly nibbling at a cracker. “I don’t want to go to college this year.”

“What?” The napkin dropped from his hand. “But Y/N…”

“No buts,” you said firmly. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. I know we talked about me attending the classes while being pregnant and then hiring a nanny, but _I_ want to look after the baby. I feel like I’ll be miserable all day in classes otherwise.”

He gave you a hard look, like he was choosing his words very carefully. “Are you sure?”

Everyone- especially, Sam- had been asking you that question a lot lately. _Are you sure you want to have the baby? Are you sure you’re okay with this? Are you sure you want to move in with Sam?_ Just so many of them. Aunt El thought you weren’t mature enough to handle moving out of her house, so her questions were tagged on with uncertainty and condescension. You let her have it. Afterall, she was only concerned for your sake. When Sam asked the questions, though, it was always to define what you _really_ wanted. To ascertain that you weren’t doing anything you didn’t really want to do. 

“Mhmm.” You answered. You loved that about Sam- he never discredited your opinion. The final decision about your life was always yours. Always. 

“There’s one other thing,” you said, slowly. “I want you to take that job in NY.”

This time he looked appalled. 

“Hear me out,” you said, “I’m a big girl and it’s my decision to take a gap year. That shouldn’t stop you from pursuing the best opportunity you have. You won’t be starting there until February anyway. We have plenty of time till then to go figure things out, right?”

Sam placed a hand on your arm and gently beckoned you to him. Abandoning the cracker in your hand, you went willingly, stretching out against his long lean body, with your back to his chest. You leaned your head back so that it was resting over his shoulder. His hands automatically went to cover your belly and an unfamiliar warmth spread throughout your body.

_He laughs more._

You recalled Dean’s words from a while ago about how Sam had changed. You didn’t know him before you entered his life, however, now you did sense a change in him. He seemed… content. Sam was always grinning, and when it was just the two of you, he could help but always touch you in little ways, the pinky finger wrapped around yours, back of his hand gliding against the side of your arm or touching his forehead to yours. 

It struck you brand new how incredibly gorgeous he was. Little _‘Chirp’_ as you had taken to calling the baby in your head would be lucky to inherit those looks.

“You know, I’ve been doing some thinking of my own,” he said, trailing feather light kisses along the line of your neck, his hand traced the length of your arm till your hand was in his. Something small pressed into your palm, before his fingers closed over yours. You turned your hand over and opened it to find a beautiful ring nestled there.

Stunned, you looked at him.

His brilliant, beautiful eyes melted as he asked, “Marry me?” The unevenness of his voice was enough to almost undo you.

“Sam,” you whispered. “I don’t know what to say.”

“Say _yes_ ,” he urged. “Say you’ll marry me and make me the luckiest man in the whole world.”

There was something so primarily vulnerable about his face that you had to close your eyes. This might have been the part of your wildest dreams and almost every bit of you wanted to say- no, to scream- yes, but you held back, trying to cling to that one shred of reason that would not let you do this.

It would be the hardest thing that you might ever have to do, and looking into his eyes would make it impossible, so your eyes remained closed as you spoke. “You’re the best person I know, Sam and I know why you’re doing this. I love you for it, but I can’t let you do this only because the baby is on the way and you think it’s the right thing to do. Because it’s not. This will affect your future in ways we can’t even comprehend right now. I won’t marry you as a compromise.”

“You think I want to marry you because of the baby? As a compromise?”

The words were so flat that you had to open your eyes, if only to see his expression. He sounded angry.

But Sam wasn’t angry, he was incredulous.

Both of his hands came to cradle your face. “Y/N, I’m asking you to marry me because I’m utterly and hopelessly in love with you. You have consumed my thoughts since the day I first saw you. My dreams aren’t complete without you in them. I’m asking you because I’m beyond sure that there isn’t another soul that I would love as much. Hell, I didn’t even know I had the power to love this much.”

You were dumbstruck.

“Baby, I would have asked you to marry me a long time ago, if I wasn’t worried about tying you down to one place. You have wings so wide and you’ve barely even tested them. I’ve always wanted for you to fly and be the best version of yourself. Now, with the baby, and since you’ve already decided to move in with me, I can’t wait to call you my wife. _That’s_ why I am asking you to marry me.”

“What about your job, your career?” You stuttered.

“Easy,” he said. “You want me to take up that job, right? Then come to New York with me. You’re taking a break year anyway. Don’t go back to NC Central. Apply in colleges that deserve someone as bright as you.”

You shook your head, trying to believe that this was actually happening.

“The money… I’ll never be able to afford it.”

“I’ll pay.” His response was so quick, it made you realise he had thought it all through. 

“Sam, you know I can’t let you do that for me.”

He bent down to kiss the side of your face. “If you agree- and _God_ , I hope you agree- you’ll be my wife. It’ll be my honor to help you through college. It’s a six figure salary. I wouldn’t even know what to do with that kind of money.”

Your throat tightened and tears made the side of your head ache. He was so incredibly selfless, and so in love with you. Yes, you had believed every word he had said. It was hard not to when he was looking down at you like that- as if you were a supernova, an impossible miracle.

“Yes,” you sobbed. “Yes, Sam Winchester, I’ll marry you.”

“Oh, thank goodness,” he exhaled, swooping down to kiss you with a passion that could have set the lake on fire. 

He slid the ring on the third finger of your left hand. It fit perfectly, the diamond glinting in the sun. “Happy birthday, Darling,” he whispered against your lips.

“You outdid yourself with the gift, don’t you think,” you said hoarsely, nestled against his chest, the warmth of his body seeping into your skin through the soft cotton.

You could feel the rumble of his throat as he chuckled. “What’re you talking about? You gave me the best present ever. A week ago I was only trying to crack the bar. Now I’m going to be a husband and a dad! I’m getting everything I could ever ask for.”

“You’re going to be an amazing father,” you said. “Little Chirp is so lucky.”

“Chirp?”

You beamed. “It’s what I call the baby.”

“Chirp,” he weighed the word again, smiling now, apparently having liked it. His hand had subconsciously reached to cradle your stomach.

Did things even get better than this? You wondered to yourself. The two of you could only try to place the entire world at Chirp’s feet, but he would sure rule your entire world.


	15. Chapter 15

**15th November 2008**

“This should be illegal,” Sam tutted.

You looked around the almost empty street and the few parked cars there. Was parking in front of the Church illegal?

You gave him a questioning look and he wiggled his eyebrows. “Looking _this_ incredible. It should be illegal.”

You rolled your eyes at him but blushed nevertheless. 

“I _just_ married you, Sam. You don’t have to drop lines anymore.”

“Yes, you just married me,” he nodded, almost shining with happiness. “But nowhere does it say that it’s not allowed to shamelessly flirt with your wife.” He leaned down and nuzzled your hair. “If it is, I didn’t get the memo.”

“You guys are insufferable,” Jo commented, coming up behind you. 

Personally, you thought it was rich of her to chastise _anyone_ about being goey in love, given the way he looked at Dean. You let it slide. Jo looked lovely in her pale peach chiffon dress. Being the only bridesmaid certainly had it perks, she could wear whatever the hell she wanted to.

You got into the car, once Sam had opened the door for you thinking about what had just passed.

It was a beautiful wedding. You hadn’t really given much thought to how your wedding would be, but your best imagination wouldn’t have done it justice. The ceremony was held in the chapel where Sam’s parents had gotten married and you wore your mother’s wedding dress. It was a timeless piece with an empire waste, small sleeves and a long train. The veil belonged to your grandmother, delicate and intricate. After Sam had proposed, Dean had pulled you aside and suggested the chapel, knowing how much it would mean to Sam. You loved him for it.

There were only a handful people in attendance. Aunt El, the brothers’ foster parents Bobby and Karen, old Rufus who worked with Dean at the garage. Aunt El had walked you down the aisle. You knew that you wouldn’t forget the walk till you lived. The love on Jo’s face and the pride on Dean’s. Most of all, the absolutely awed look in Sam’s eyes as he took you in. Even from the distance, it wasn’t hard to see his eyes welling up, and Dean reaching out to pat his brother’s back.

You had each repeated your vows, Sam albeit a little dazed, till the minister said, ‘You may now kiss the bride.’ His features had all melted, as he rushed to hold you in his arms, kissing you like the act held the purity of a service, fingers reluctant on your neck, unwilling to let go.

Dean had to loudly clear his throat for Sam to break off the kiss.

You had looked at Dean to see that he was smirking with a warm sort of vindication.

“We’re here,” Sam said softly, placing a kiss on your cheek. You looked out to see that the car was standing in front of a fine dine- the same one where Sam had taken you to on your first date.

You remembered how you had been self-conscious that night, wondering why Sam would want to date you? Things were so different now. For one, you were absolutely certain Sam would never want anyone but you, just like you wouldn’t want anyone but him. 

Outside, Sam held your hand as you walked towards the restaurant.

“Cold?” He asked, teasing you about that first date where you ended up using his coat again, instead of actually returning it like you were supposed to.

Inside, the whole area had been cleared, with a few tables arranged to the very side. The centre had been converted into a makeshift dancing floor, with the chandelier casting a brilliant light on it. A soft cheer went around when you entered and you saw the girls and staff from Aunt El’s diner and the few guys working at the garage. They were all there to congratulate the two of you. You found yourself politely greeting them after being introduced. You had never had any close friends back home and Sam said all his friends from college were too spread out now to actually make it to the wedding at short notice. You would have protested, or even asked to push the date ahead, but Sam clearly didn’t mind having a very intimate ceremony. 

“Does any of this seem like a dream to you?” Sam asked dubiously as he twirled you during the first dance. “I mean this is just too good.”

“You need to stop saying that,” you breathed out, jittery from his touch and intermittent kisses.

He shook his head. “I’ve decided I’m not going to hold back from saying anything corny. Now that you can’t run away, I can keep embarrassing you with silly stuff.”

You giggled.

“Wish I could have met your gran,” he said, pulling you to him, hand gliding down your back.

You had been thinking the exact same thing. “Tell you what. I think she would have loved you.”

It was the truth. Gran was a sassy old lady. If anything she would have appreciated the catch that Sam was. You found the thought very amusing.

“Isn’t there a tradition for the bride to dance with the groomsman?”

You turned to the sound of the voice, already smiling. Dean stood there- coat discarded- in his vest and the cockiest smile.

“There’s no such rule,” said Sam. “Get lost.”

“Oh shush,” you admonished him, letting go of your grip on his arm. “I want to dance with Dean now. Go find Jo. I’m sure she’s sulking about the lack of attention from the groom.”

Sam pulled you closer and kissed the side of your hair. 

“Soon,” he whispered. That was something about Sam. He wouldn’t ever say ‘bye’ to you while leaving. It was always a peck on your forehead and a confident ‘soon.’ Sam bowed and left, giving his brother a bitch face on the way.

With the smirk still on his lips, Dean carefully placed his hands on your waist, while you placed yours on his shoulder.

“How you feeling?” He asked. “Tired? You want to sit down?”

“Dean, we just started dancing!”

“Yea, but you and the champ need to rest up. A long day like this can’t be good,” he fretted over you. “I’ve been doing some reading and… uh… it said that you need to be careful even after the first trimester ends.”

“Oh look at you using all the fancy pregnancy terms,” you whistled.

Dean grinned proudly. “I’m preparing to be the coolest uncle in the whole damn world.”

“And you will be.”

It was crazy how into it all Dean was. Your room was already littered with small tractor soft toys. Dean and Jo had been thinking of moving in for a while now. As a wedding gift, they had leased out the house two doors down for you and Sam for the coming three months before Sam would move to New York.

Dean gave you a rare shy smile at the confidence in your voice. The two of you weren’t dancing by any means, just moving from side to side in the same spot. Evidently, neither was any good at formal dancing.

Dean looked over at Sam, where he was spinning Jo expertly. She was laughing loudly, delighted at being swung around.

“I didn’t ever think he’d find so much happiness, so soon in his life,” Dean murmured. “You arriving in Lawrence, the whirlwind romance and now this little sunshine… It’s all been one stroke of luck after another.”

“I’m no stroke of luck.”

His gaze shifted from his brother to you. “You’re right. You’re much much better than random good luck. More like divine providence?” He grinned roguishly. 

You had to laugh out loud at that. “Say what you want, Dean. Only someone who watches too many Romcoms can come up with something like that!”

He winked as he slowly turned you in a circle. “I have a little something for you,” he said.

Your eyebrows shot up. “You leased a whole house for us. There’s no little something after that.”

“It didn’t cost me a dime,” he promised. “C’mon.”

He slowly led you to the side of the room, where a small bag was placed on the table.

“Here,” he said, handing it to you.

You put your hand in the bag and touched something soft. After a startled look, you pulled it out completely. It was a grey baby blanket. Softer than the brush of a feather.

“Oh,” you gasped, touching the material, reveling in the softness, rubbing it against your cheek. “This is so… comforting.”

“Well, yeah, I hugged that and cried a lot.”

Your eyes flew to his face in startelement and he shrugged apologetically.

“It’s Sam’s,” Dean said. “That was the blanket he was wrapped in the night of the fire.”

You knew the story, obviously. It still twisted your heart to think about it. Small Dean carrying baby Sam wrapped in this very blanket. Then you thought of Dean, still only a child, holding on to it and crying at night. Your body shuddered and your hands fisted in the material.

“That blanket might just have saved Sam’s life for all I know,” Dean said with a far away look in his eyes. “It’s… uh… helped me remember that Sam was alright at Stanford, when he was gone. I think you should have it.”

“Dean…” You didn’t know what to say. Even if you did, your throat was suddenly thick.

“Shhh… just take it,” he said. “Tuck my nephew or niece in it at night.”

You nodded and Dean pulled you into a hug. “Sam seriously couldn’t have done better.” He sounded really surprised. It made you giggle against his chest. He held you like that for the rest of the song. The warmth of his embrace, a blessing of its own.

As it turned out, standing up for long hours did exhaust you after all. 

You stood in the bedroom, taking in all the details of what would be your new home for the next few months. Someone- probably Jo- had laid out rose petals on the bed in the corniest fashion. You could imagine the absolute glee on her face as she spread them.

Strong hands wrapped around your waist from behind and you felt Sam’s chin coming to rest on your shoulder. You didn’t miss how his fingers absently caressed your belly.

“Ooohhh very sexy,” he chuckled looking at petals. 

Abruptly you felt the heat rush to your face. Why were you embarrassed now? It didn’t make any sense.

Slowly he turned you around so you were facing him, then put a finger under your chin and tilted it so that you were looking into his eyes.

“Have I told you how stunning you look tonight, Mrs. Winchester?” His eyes were appraising you in a way that made your face feel even hotter.

“Only about a million times,” you whispered. 

Sam leaned down and placed a soft kiss on your lips. It was very sweet and very warm. You were just beginning to grasp that this was the rest of your life from now on. 

“You must be tired,” he said, leading you to the bed. “Just sit here and I’ll be back in a moment. I have something for you.”

“What?”

He winked. “A wedding gift.”

You moaned. “I don’t have anything for you.” Why? Oh why did it not occur to you to get something for Sam?

You heard a chuckle from outside and then Sam was right next to you, an elegantly wrapped box in his hand. “Y/N, you’re letting me have my dream life, already.” His voice brightened. “And you did gift me that cologne last week.”

You pursed your lips at how smooth he was being. You would never be able to manage that. The gift was simply wrapped- one tug at the satin ribbon and the wrapping paper came apart, revealing a book.

It was the hardbound copy of _To kill a mockingbird._ The corners weren’t as sharp as any new copy’s would be, the pages were yellowed and the binding was just a little used, otherwise it was in a great condition. 

Happiness burst inside you at the feel of the book in your hand. This was perfect. 

You opened the first page, running your fingers over the dedication. Then something occurred to you and you flipped to the cover again. It wasn’t the same as your book back home or the one that Sam owned. Slowly, it dawned on you _why_ the book looked old. You flipped to the first page again, and with a gasp noted the date of publication. 1st January 1960.

“Sam! This is the first edition!”

He grinned down at you. “Do you like it?”

“How much money did you put into buying this?” This was too much.

Sam shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. As long as you love it.”

You shook your head at the craziness. Suddenly the book weighed a ton in your hands. 

He sighed. “I had some money lying around from the time I worked as an intern. Couldn’t think of a better way to spend it than this… I could read out from it to both of you.”

“A normal book would have been fine,” you mumbled.

“But do you like it?” Sam countered.

You took his hand in one of yours. “I love it, Sam. Of course I do. Thank you.”

“I bet Chirp will love it, too,” he said satisfied, raising your hand to kiss the back of it.

That was the thing about Sam, you thought to yourself. You were wholeheartedly sure of the little life growing within you- you wanted this baby. But Sam- Sam was already ready for it. Wanting something was completely different from being completely ready. And why not? He was much older, settled now. He had seen more of the world than you had. So when you came across the papers of fixed deposit for the baby’s sake, it startled you. You hadn’t even thought that far ahead, lost in your perfect moment of bliss, while Sam had actually mapped it out. He would have to move to New York in February, but for now, he was working with an allied firm in Kansas City. You were shocked to see his planning and finances, from trying to secure property in Manhattan to making way for your tuition and the baby’s future.

Another thing that was somewhat difficult for you to wrap your head around was the fact that Sam was _well to do_. You hadn’t dated him that long to understand his life completely. Sure, Dean seemed to have enough money to lend you for all your tuition, to lease a whole house as a wedding present, but now that you were part of the family, you understood how well his business actually ran, or just how much money Sam had accumulated working through colleges, given he was always fully funded with scholarships. 

As sure as you were of Sam, there were a lot of little things about him that you didn’t know yet. Maybe that explained the nervousness you were feeling today. From now on you would _live_ with him. 

“Sam?” You asked softly, endeavouring to understand him a bit more. “Will you play the piano for me?”

Amongst his other belongings, the piano had been moved here.

Sam gave you a surprised look. “Really?”

You nodded. “I’ve barely ever heard you play.”

“I don’t play that well,” he admitted.

You got up and grabbed his hand, pulling him to his feet. “It’s okay, I don’t understand music much anyway.”

He let you guide him to the grand piano in the living room.

“You’re really going to make me do this, aren’t you?” He sighed in mock exasperation.

“Yes, Sir,” you grinned. 

He sighed again and sat down on the bench, pulling you down with him.

“What would you like me to play?”

“Anything, really. Like I said, I don’t know much about classical music. I just want to hear you play.”

He bowed his head and began to play, a melody that was very easily recognisable and very very beautiful. Sam’s long fingers glided expertly over the keys, weaving a harmony so rich that you listened, thrilled and disbelieving. Dean had said he had started playing again after you had entered his life.

“Heard this one?” He asked casually. 

“Yes,” you whispered, unable to take your eyes off his dancing fingers. “I love it. I think I’ve heard it in a fancy elevator or something.” But it was very layered and absolutely beautiful when he played it.

Sam chuckled. “Fur Elise. Beethoven,” he supplied. The music went through a bridge and changed. This one you surprisingly knew.

“Moonlight sonata,” you exulted and Sam laughed at your glee. He was probably keeping it basic for you, but it didn’t matter. This was still magical to you.

“Do you want to go to bed?” he asked, watching you suppress a yawn from the side of his eye after the sixth song had come to an end. “You do need to rest.”

You wanted to protest, but Sam wasn’t wrong. The day had been very tiring. You didn’t want to sleep yet, though. There was something else on your mind. It was your wedding night afterall.

Without waiting for your reply, Sam fluidly lifted you bridal style, carrying you to the bedroom with the obnoxious rose petal design, and gently laid you on top of it.

Sam appraised you once more. “You know, you look so lovely in it, it’s almost a shame to have to peel this dress off of you.” Then he grinned crookedly. “Almost.”

It made you giggle. You took your time eyeing him now. His white shirt was open at the collar and you could see the skin under it. The sleeves barely concealed the musculature of his strong arms and the trousers were hanging very alluringly from his hips. 

Wow. He _really_ was yours to keep.

You hooked your finger in the loop of his trousers and pulled him close. Sam raised an eyebrow in amusement, but came to you willing, angling himself carefully so he fell on the bed next to you. He took your face in both his hands then very slowly kissed your lips. 

“I love you, Y/N/N. And the depth of it doesn’t scare me anymore. I love the both of you. So much.”

His hand had found your belly again and you placed yours over his, willing yourself to believe. Maybe happiness this profound really did exist. Somehow you were just the luckiest person in the world to have found it.

“I love you, too, Mr. Winchester.” 


	16. Chapter 16

** 13th February 2009 **

“Are you peeking from in between my fingers?” Sam asked dubiously. “I’ll know if you cheat.”

She laughed her clear, joyous laughter. “I’m not peeking. Some trust?”

He could have followed that up with something cheesy but Sam held his tongue as he maneuvered around the foyer and into the living room.

“Ready?”

“Ready!” The note of excitement was palpable in her voice.

Sam lifted his hands from over her eyes. There was a gasp as she took in the room before her. The double height space and the classic wooden furniture. The opposite wall was completely glass and one could see the sprawl of Manhattan below it. Sam tried to imagine how it looked to her, the modern staircase leading up to the upper story, the kitchen that was just visible around the living room corner. It wasn’t a big place with only two bedrooms upstairs, and Sam had wondered over and over if getting a place in the city was a good idea after all, especially with little Chirp on the way. Maybe he should have looked for a little house in the suburbs with a picket fence and a wide road where chirp could ride _his_ bicycle.

Sam was distracted by that image- of a little boy trying to balance his wheels. Both, he and Y/N had been so excited on the day of the sonography two weeks ago. Bets had been made and Sam had never been happier to lose. A baby boy with Y/N’s smile and Y/N’s heart. It would be alright with him if the kid was all Y/N, really. He could still picture her face as she’d held his hand, the tears streaming down her face- “We’re having a boy, Sam. We’re having a son.”

“This is beautiful,” Y/N exhaled, breaking Sam out of his reverie. “I love it.”

“There’s a small study upstairs,” he pointed and her eyes followed the direction of his fingers.

“Both the bedrooms are upstairs,” he said apologetically. “But since you won’t be moving here before the delivery, I didn’t think it would be much of a problem.”

“Sam, stop fretting,” she said, turning in the circle of his arms- a little awkwardly, now that she was rounder in the middle. “This home is perfect.”

It brought back his earlier anxiety. “You don’t think the city is a bad place to raise a child? We can pass on this and look for something outside the city limits.”

“Houses don’t raise children. Parents do,” she reminded him with humour in her eyes. “As long as we are together, we can make this work. And no, I don’t think you’re being selfish by booking a flat close to your work.”

Sam’s jaw dropped. “How did you know?”

“I know you, Mister.” She blew a kiss towards him.

Wondering not for the first time about just how perceptive Y/N was, Sam gave her a tour of the house, especially careful on the steps. It was perfect for her taste, already. Minimal and elegant. He didn’t think that she would want to redecorate. 

“I’m thinking we can move the furniture to one side and make this into a mini library,” she was saying, pointing to the corner where the foyer opened up. “And your piano can go right next to it.”

“Mhmm…”

She looked at him, then, eyes narrowing, before grabbing his hand and pulling him onto the sofa with her.

“You’re a million miles away, Sam,” she said, squeezing the hand she was holding. “What’re you thinking?”

“It’s hard to be away from you,” he said, not quite meeting her eyes.

They had both always known that Sam would have to move to New York in February for the job, but when it came to Y/N, Ellen had put her foot down that she would remain in Lawrence till the delivery. _Y/N needs a mother, she needs a sister to look after her_ , Ellen had explained. Besides, there was only Sam here, and so many people in Lawrence to care for Y/N. The logic had seemed infallible to Sam then, and Y/N didn’t want to break her aunt’s heart. How hard could it be? Living apart for a few months. But the one week he had spent in the city without her had been torturous to say the least. She was on his mind all the time and it was making it harder to concentrate on his new job. There was always so much anxiety, about whether she was doing okay. 

He had been dying for the weekend, knowing that she would be visiting him.

“It’s just a few more months,” she reassured him. “And you’ll be with me on the weekends.”

“It’s not enough,” he sighed. “I miss you more than what’s logical.”

Her laughter rang through the somewhat empty house.

“I’m being silly, aren’t I?” He gave her a wry smile.

Y/N shook her head. “You’re not being silly. You’re just being a wonderful husband.”

Sam reached out and pulled her over him, then leaned back on the sofa so she was sleeping against his side. His fingers found her hair, as he tried to convey just how much each second spent with her meant to him. The rational part of his brain told him that the novelty was supposed to wear off after a while, that he wouldn’t always be so maddeningly in love with her, and yet, in his heart Sam knew that the rational part of his brain was being stupid. He didn’t think it was possible for him to love her any less. Ever.

“So, do you want to visit the Yale campus tomorrow?” He spoke into her hair, where he was occasionally planting kisses. “You know, for Valentine’s day?”

She shook silently against him in laughter at first, then managed in between giggles. “Stop selling Ivy Leagues to me!”

Sam laughed along with her. “Really, Y/N! What’s stopping you now?”

“I don’t think I can get in.”

“That’s a whole load of bull if anything,” he said. “I really believe that you can achieve anything you set your heart to. Yale… Stanford… Berkeley… anything.”

“You skipped one,” she pointed out and he rolled his eyes.

“Harvard’s overrated.” He had always been prejudiced about Harvard. And the years spent at Yale with all that rivalry hadn’t helped one bit.

Sam could see she wasn’t entirely convinced, but Y/N gave in with good grace. “Okay, we’ll go to New Haven tomorrow. Happy?”

“More than I can express in words,” Sam answered truthfully. 

* * *

** 17th March 2009 **

“Okay, you need to stop crying,” Sam mumbled. “I feel like I’m doing an awful job.”

“No no…” you waved your hand. “Don’t stop playing. I’m just being an emotional idiot here. It’s the hormones… and you play so beautifully.”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Seriously, you’re going to give me a big head here.”

Barely. 

It was way past your bedtime, but you wanted to make the most of the weekend since Sam was here. You dragged him to the piano to play something for you. There was something heavenly about watching his fingers slide over the keys.

“I don’t know how you do it,” you said honestly, taking one of his hands, while the other continued playing and kissing his knuckles. “Be so cutthroat in the courtroom and so gentle… otherwise.” 

You had taken to reading his textbooks and notes from college in the afternoon, carefully noting the language, the way he phrased his arguments. You could only imagine him sitting in the Green Library, as he had described it, slogging over assignments. Maybe if you learned some of this now, you could apply it in college yourself.

Sam shuddered as you kissed the silver band on his finger. 

“If you keep doing that, Y/N,” He said slowly, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep playing for long.”

You giggled and let go of his hand. Sam sighed regretfully, but went back to his keys. _Fur Elise_ again. 

You felt it then. Swift and fluttering.

“Sam!” You gasped.

“I know, I know this is your favourite… But I swear if you start crying again-”

“No, Sam! The baby kicked!”

“What?”

You grabbed his hand and placed it over your belly. “Feel it! Chirp’s kicking.”

“Holy-” Sam’s eyes were wide as he put both his palms on your stomach, moving around when the baby kicked again. 

“I felt something a week ago and then again on Tuesday, but this is the first time…” The tears that had just subsided came back again and started pouring down your cheeks.

“Our baby is… kicking…”

Abruptly, Sam yanked your shirt up by the hem, rolling it so it was tucked right under your chest, and placed his cheek on the skin where you had felt the first push.

Chirp moved again and you felt Sam stiffen over you. He held his breath for a while, but nothing happened again.

“Play something,” you suggested.

Without really moving, Sam moved one hand and placed it over the keys, playing the intro of Swan lake. Inside you, Chirp moved again.

“Sam! He’s doing it again. Don’t stop.”

He didn’t. For the next few minutes his fingers played ceaselessly on the keys. Happily, you hummed along, feeling the little movements that quieted down slowly till they stopped.

When Sam finally raised his head up, you could see his eyes were watery. 

“This… this…” 

“I know,” you said, watching him struggle to find words. “I _know_.”

You reached out to touch the corner of his eye. “And I thought I was the hormonal one, huh?”

“You hear that, Chirp,” Sam mumbled, hand still on your rounded stomach. “You see how your mom makes fun of dad?”

“Chirp’s smart,” you said smugly. “He’ll know whose side to pick.”

The moisture still rolled down the side of Sam’s eye. “I’m glad I didn’t miss this… that I was around.”

“You hear that, Chirp?” You said, lightly. “Your dad’s scared about missing out. It’s because he loves you.”

Sam pulled you against his chest where you could hear the beat of his heart, slowing to normal with each passing second. You didn’t know what he was thinking… but you could guess that his thoughts were probably in line with yours. And as far as you were concerned, your closed eyes conjured one specific image. A tall man sitting before a piano, head not quite bowed, but rather tilted towards a woman who was looking at him with love and adoration. The music flowed slowly, but not in tune, because between them, a small boy was seated, giggling mischievously as he tinkered with the keys, off-scale but lilting. He would look up at the man for approval after each stroke, and when his father nodded, the boy would turn to the woman with a look of sheer happiness and a hint of pride in his soft hazel eyes. Your family.


	17. Chapter 17

**Trigger warning for the chapter: Miscarriage**

**24th April 2009**

“I’ll be fine, really,” you said on the phone. “It’s only seven.”

On the other end Jo sighed. “Y/N, it’s starting to rain again, and it’s getting really dark outside.”

“Weird that it’s already raining in April,” you murmured. “I’m just around the bend of Clinton lake.”

“Why did you even leave the house?”

It was Sam’s birthday in just a little over a week. You really wanted to get him something. Sitting at home wasn’t giving you any ideas, so you had decided to go around to the other side of the big lake and try your luck at the engraving shop there. It had worked and you ended up placing an order for an engraved pen. It was a simple black fountain pen, part of which was made in obsidian, so your message could be engraved. Even if Sam used it regularly, it was supposed to be very durable and you were extremely pleased. You were also particularly proud of the quote you had picked. It wasn’t romantic in any way, but you had heard Sam read it out to you from your favourite book many times in that lovely voice of his.

You hoped Sam would carry the pen to work. Things were hard for him in New York right now, living by himself. He wouldn’t tell you if he ever had troubles at work, but you knew enough of the profession to know that it was ruthless, and sometimes hard. You couldn’t be there with him to tell him that things would be alright. Maybe if he looked down at the pen, the quote would remind him of that.

“Y/N? A storm’s about to hit that side, ” Jo fretted, slightly frustrated on the line. “Are you listening?”

“Yes,” you said, peering into the horizon just beyond the lake, beyond the pitter patter on the glass. It really was getting dark. “I’ll be home in a few minutes. In fact, I’ll come over directly to your place. I think Dean could use another apple pie.”

“No!” Jo shouted. “You go to your house.”

“Oh-kay.” Not suspicious at all. “What’re you not telling me?”

“Nothing!” 

Jo’s voice was too high to be believable. Either way, it wasn’t the best idea to stay out any longer. 

“I’m parked at a shoulder,” you told her. “I’m gonna hang up on you so I can get back on the road.

“Okay. Drive carefully.”

“See ya in fifteen,” you grinned as you cut the call on her vague protests. She really did want you to not visit her. Maybe she was throwing you that surprise baby shower afterall. 

“Looks like you and I have to pretend to be surprised, Chirp,” you muttered. 

Slowly, you reversed the car and eased it back onto the road, thinking about how cold it seemed to suddenly feel. Maybe you should turn the heat up further. 

It came out of nowhere. The blow. One minute you were sliding the car onto the road, next minute you were sinking, drowning, the shock not even letting you register what had happened. There was a bright, blinding yellow light- straight in your eyes at first, from a direction it shouldn’t have been coming from. The confusion just spiraled when the road which should have been beneath you was over your head, and then you were spinning out of control. You closed your eyes, unable to understand what was happening till the water hit. Then you started thrashing, trying to get the seat belt to loosen, to get yourself out of the vehicle, but even with all the whipping around, you couldn’t free yourself. The water rose higher and higher in the darkness as you struggled to strain your neck to rise above it… until you couldn’t.

Seconds… then your throat was hurting. No- it was burning. The world was turning upside down and you were in a torrent of water. Frantically, you tried to unbuckle yourself, but your swollen middle made it hard. That thought cleared your head more than anything else and you doubled, tripled your efforts to get out, finally managing to free yourself of the seat belt and open the door. For all your effort, it wasn’t soon enough because the van rolled in the dark water and hit something, plummeting you to the side, against what could only be jagged metal and pieces of glass.

You wanted more than anything to just go to sleep now. Maybe then the cold will seize and so would the sting. Everything was stinging. The cold water was biting into your skin like a thousand knives and the cold was so cold it _burned_ , it set you on fire. But the shards, they were a different kind of ripping, tearing- outside on your skin and… inside.

No. You opened your eyes, and with every last ounce of strength, made your limbs move. There was pain. You knew it deep down that you were in a lot of pain, though right now you couldn’t feel anything beyond the haze in your brain and the ice under your skin. The burning in the throat was dulling, but you used it to remain conscious, to propel yourself up, because there was something infinitely more important in this world than your life. You had to force yourself to swim to protect that thing. 

The ripping once more and a stab… It was gut wrenching to keep pushing the water down with your hands, the consciousness was slipping again. Another convulsive spasm from the inside now… to the point where you felt something other than the cold… you felt it, you felt the pain, primal and devastating inside of you. The blackness overwhelmed you.

Something was patting your face and then something soft was on your lips. Soft and warm. 

“Jesus Christ,” a voice hissed, desperate, then shouted away from you, “She’s not responding! Jesus!”

“Stop with that, you moron,” another scared, deeper voice in the distance yelled. “Get the water out.”

“I-I can’t… I can’t roll her over on the stomach. She’s… she’s… Fuck.”

“Press her chest. We’ve got to do something till the ambulance comes. Slap her face again.”

pat pat pat.

The rain was thudding hard around you, hitting your face like arrows.

“Fuck, I can’t,” the first voice answered. “Her lips are blue and all this blood. Shit!”

“She’s not even shivering.” The other deep voice cursed. “Move aside, you idiot.” A different set of hands replaced the ones on you.

Pumps on your chest and then something on her lips again.

The first man, far away now, was shouting. “She’s gonna die… she’s gonna die… and they’ll think we did it. That bastard drove off and you- you had to stop driving.”

The voice near you growled in frustration. “Oh, fuck off!” He said urgently in your ears. “C’mon dammit! Keep fighting.” The pumping continued, but you didn’t fight to live. You knew it in your frozen bones that the reason you had been fighting for was _gone_. It was in the blood seeping from your middle, the blood rapidly staining your already drenched pants. It was in the glass and metal sticking out of your body. It was in the unbearable pain and the bone crushing cold, it was in the scared and defeated voices over you… _he_ was gone. 

Pump. Pump. Pump.

“C’mon! Fight!”

You fought, yes. But not to live. You fought to go under, to never resurface ever again. What was the point? 

“Check her wallet,” the man over you commanded. “She’s married. See if you can get a hold of the husband.”

_Sam._

“I can feel a beat. Fuck. Thank God.”

The tensed, shrill voice yelled from far away. “I think I hear the ambulance.”

“You hear that?” The voice, soft now commanded. “Stay with me!”

You heard it… you heard the siren… farther and then closer. The pain felt sharper now, agonising like hellfire burning in your veins. More voices, more pain… and then nothing.

* * *

**26th April 2008**

“Sam?”

“Sam, seriously. If you stop responding, I’ll slap an answer out of you. I swear I will.”

He looked up at the girl standing over him. Jo was scowling down at him, her voice high pitched and reedy.

“You _need_ to eat something.”

He said nothing.

She grabbed him by the shoulder, fingers digging into the muscle. “Are you even listening to me?” Jo might have tried to shake him, he didn’t notice it. “Mom’s sent some food.”

“I’m not leaving her.” 

Jo’s body relaxed just a bit at his response. At least she had gotten one. He felt her take a seat next to him, without letting go of his shoulder. 

“You’re not helping her by starving yourself,” she said. “You think Y/N would want you to torture yourself like this?”

“I wouldn’t know what Y/N would want now, would I?” His voice sounded muted, dead, even to his own ears.

She sighed. “There’s nothing you could’ve done. The baby… Y/N…. you couldn’t have done anything.”

_There’s nothing you could’ve done._

They were only words. His brother had said them, and Jo and Ellen; so many times that they had lost meaning to Sam now. Not that they had ever held any to begin with.

“Why’re you doing this to me, Jo?” He asked flatly, without even the intention of an inflection.

She took a deep breath. “Because Dean’s losing it, Sam. He’s fucking losing it seeing you like this. I’ve never seen him look this… this…” Her hands flailed in the air. “Crazed! He’s blaming himself for everything.”

For the first time, he turned to look at her and actually see her. Jo’s hair was coming out of the plait that she hadn’t combed out of for almost two days. Her face was grimy and blotched. Her eyes were red and nose shiny. She looked on the verge of tears still.

“It’s not Dean’s fault.” 

“It’s not yours either,” she yelled, exasperated,

“I should have been with her! Maybe then she wouldn’t have gone out.”

“It was a perfectly good day to drive. She was barely even out of town and it wasn’t her fault that a trailer doing ninety miles decided to make a bend on the wrong side of the road.”

Sam flinched.

The hand on his shoulder slid down and wrapped around his waist. “It was a freak accident. I know you’re hurting, Sam. I have to be blind to not see what this is doing to you, but think about what you’ll do to Y/N if she sees you like this.”

“I thought I lost her, too,” Sam whispered. “The way she looked.” A shudder ran through his body and Jo threw her other arm around him, as if to protect him, as if she could shield him from what had passed and what was to come. 

Sam had stayed with Y/N as long as they would let him. However, no one was allowed in the ICU, so he was forced to remain in the waiting area outside. Be that as it might, no one had been able to move him from here since that wretched phone call.

It felt like eons ago- Sam had paced the living room in their home impatiently, waiting for Y/N to come back from wherever she had driven to. Jo had arranged for a surprise baby shower, and to add to it, Sam had flown in a day early. It was a wonder to see her look of sheer joy each time Y/N found him home! He had spent the hour fixing that one odd joint in the crib, and then another trying to get the rainbow mural stuck on the wall opposite to the crib. Y/N would be so proud. He had been congratulating himself when the shrill ring of the phone interrupted his reverie. The phone call that had changed everything. 

“Y/N’s tough, Sam,” Jo whispered in his ears. “You heard the doctor, right? He said no one that far gone had managed to pull through all in one piece. She had a cardiac arrest from the hypothermia and she’s still with us.” Jo rubbed soothing circles into his back. “Shhh… it’ll be alright. She’s tougher than she looks, that one.”

“I don’t know how to tell her… how to face her.” Only when Sam’s voice broke did he realise that he was already crying. “I can’t see her in pain, Jo. It will _kill_ me.”

“No, it won’t. You need to let others in. Let people help you first, so you can be there for her tomorrow. If you let yourself go to pieces, who’s she gonna turn to?”

Sam simply shook his head as the tears overwhelmed him. He knew he couldn’t stay weak, couldn’t afford to be fragile… especially not now.

Someone cleared their throat and Jo pulled back to reveal the nurse standing in the hallway. “Mrs. Winchester just regained consciousness.”

* * *

“Y/N, Darling.”

Sam’s voice. The only sound that could mean anything.

“You said she was awake,” he spoke, voice sounding farther.

“She is…” said another doubtful voice. A woman’s voice. “At least she was.”

“Y/N, sweetheart, can you hear me?”

His voice was dim and strained. You didn’t need to open your eyes to see the expression on his face.

“Doctor,” he said, frantic now. “What’s wrong with her?”

Cool hand pressed against your wrist, then another lightly prodded at your eyelid, trying to pry them open. You turned your head to the side, not willing to look.

There was a sharp intake of breath. “Darling?”

“Mr. Winchester, could I please request you step outside while I examine her?”

There was a pause, then the door opened and closed. 

“Mrs. Winchester, my name’s Richard Hawke and I’m your doctor. Could you please turn your head this way?”

You did. 

Against your hazy vision, much couldn’t be made out about Dr. Hawke except his kind eyes. “How’re you feeling? Is there any pain?”

You shook your head. Physically, you only felt numb. Your throat felt scorched, but that pain was welcoming. You needed it to feel something.

“Do you remember what happened?”

One dip your head.

Dr. Hawke looked at you for a long moment. “You’ve been through one hell of a trauma, Mrs. Winchester. It’s a miracle that you survived.” He gave you a compassionate smile.

You knew what his words really meant. ‘Be grateful that, at least, _you_ survived.’

He studied the file he was holding, then said. “We had to perform a surgery when they brought you in. Thankfully, there are no fractures, just deep lacerations on your stomach, back and chest. To let you heal from the surgery and for the stitches to hold, we had to keep you under sedation for over a day and half.”

Dr. Hawke waited for you to give a sign that you understood, when he didn’t get one, he continued. “You need complete bed rest for a couple of days. That means no moving around or even standing for too long. If you’re in pain, please immediately call for the nurse.” His voice softened. “Do you want me to send your husband in?”

You looked him right in the eyes and very deliberately shook your head. 

He nodded and you closed your eyes, not wanting to see a world where your baby would never exist.

* * *

**30th April 2008**

“Y/N, do you want to take a walk?” Jo asked, trying to make her voice bright. “The doctor said you need to move around a bit, sweetie.”

“C’mon, sweetheart,” Dean added, in the same tone. “There’s actually sun outside today. No more gloomy, rainy weather.”

Sam felt himself stiffen and Dean shot him a wary glance. No one had mentioned rain in front of her. Their careful exchange was lost on Y/N though, just like everything else had been up until now. For all they knew, she hadn’t heard a word of the conversation. Her gaze was fixed, unseeing on the blinders of the window, through which some of the sunlight that Dean was talking about trickled in. The expression on her face was blank, exactly how it had been since she had first opened her eyes.

No one had told Y/N that she had lost the baby… she had already known. Not that she had told anyone that she knew. Hell, she hadn’t spoken a word in the four days since gaining consciousness. But it was just there, in that hollow look, like a blackhole. Each time Sam looked at her, the pit in his stomach would grow deeper, threatening to swallow him whole. His heart, which felt heavy in his chest beat frantically like its beats were numbered. It scared Sam… it made him feel as if the cataclysmic loss wasn’t behind him, rather it was in front, drawing close with every second that Y/N didn’t speak, didn’t look at him.

Forcefully, Sam shook his head, dislodging the thought. He got to his feet and walked over to the window Y/N had been looking towards. Slowly drawing the blinds away from the glass, he let the sunlight flood the room. He turned around to see Y/N closing her eyes. 

Over her Dean and Jo exchanged a distraught look, then looked at him. Their expression made Sam realise that he hadn’t been meant to see their exchange.

“Okay, rest up, then,” Dean said, in a low, kind voice. He bent down to kiss Y/N on her forehead. “We’ll be waiting outside.”

Jo ran her fingers through Y/N’s hair, then with one dejected sigh, followed Dean out of the room. It didn’t miss Sam’s attention that his brother gripped her hand tightly on their way out.

Sam took his place on the steel chair next to Y/N’s bed and reached out to take her hand. She didn’t shirk it away like she had for the first two days. Now, it lay there, dead, without any movement. Sam might as well have been holding the hand of a marble statue. Cold and hard. The doctor had said not to touch her skin at first… that it might be painful for her after the hypothermic attack, but even after they were sure that it might have passed, Y/N had recoiled from his touch and it had hurt like the lash of a flaming whip against his raw, exposed skin- her rejection. It had been the only visible reaction she had shown to his presence or even his words at first.

Sam had tried, he knew that much. He had tried with every ounce of his soul to put on a smile and call out to her. He had dried his eyes of the last drop of moisture, rid his expression of the last spasm of pain and smoothened it into a smile for her. If it was the only thing he could do now- bury his pain- he would do it for her. He would do it all. If only he knew that he was getting through to Y/N, if only she would spare him just one glance. When he forced himself in the way of her gaze, she would simply look _through_ him. He could touch her and he could kiss her, but it was showing love to only her inanimate body, not _his_ Y/N. She didn’t seem to be in there.

Bile rose to his mouth each time he skimmed his fingers along her cheek, and not even her eyes blinked. The heat didn’t rise to her cheeks. Nothing happened. 

Now, Sam sat next to her, reading out loud, _“… Jem finally realized that he had been done in by the oldest lawyer’s trick on record. He waited a respectful distance from the front steps, watched Atticus leave the house and walk toward town. When Atticus was out of earshot Jem yelled after him: “I thought I wanted to be a lawyer but I ain’t so sure now!””_

He stopped when the nurse came in with a bowl of soup and placed it on the table next to her bed. “Here’s some soup for you, honey.” 

“Thank you,” Sam murmured, placing the copy of _To kill a mockingbird_ on the table.

“You’re welcome,” she said in a pleasant voice, giving Sam a pitying look before exiting the room.

“C’mon, love,” Sam coaxed, helping her into a sitting position. He settled besides her with the bowl in his hand, dipped the spoon into the thick soup and brought the spoon to Y/N’s bruised lips. She didn’t resist as he tipped it into her mouth. She never resisted anything. Sam wished with a yearning that was acute to the point of pain that she would just raise her eyes and look at him. Look and actually _see._

His hopeless longing had led him to tilt the spoon sideways and a line of soup dribbled along her chin. Sam hurried to wipe it off with the folded sleeve of his shirt. “I’m so sorry.”

Y/N hadn’t even noticed. 

Slowly, she finished the soup, one spoon at a time. 

“That’s my girl,” Sam encouraged, cleaning the last of it from her lips, and raising a glass of water. 

“Do you want to go out?” He asked, trying and failing to keep the despair out of his voice. This time, however, Y/N shook her head and hope, even more painful than the yearning, roared through Sam’s chest. She sometimes reacted to _his_ words, something she never did for anyone else. And that was the one string he had clung to…. one golden string of faith.

“Later, then?” It was there in his voice, too… that same hope.

Slowly she nodded, then turned her head away and closed her eyes again. Sam knew she wanted to be by herself.

He almost bent down to peck her on the forehead, that unsettling fear of impending loss, urging him to do it… but then he thought better of it and stepped outside. When Y/N was ready, she would come out herself. She had said so… she would _have_ to. 

In the strangest way, without even having known her, Sam missed his mother. He knew that if she had been around now, he would have hidden his face in her lap and allowed himself to cry to his heart’s content. He loved Karen, and she loved him, too… but it was different with her. She felt like his favourite aunt. Dean had called both Bobby and her to let them know what had happened. They wanted to come over immediately, but one look at Sam’s face had made Dean decline their offer. Sam didn’t think he could pretend to be alright for any more people than he already had to. 

Everyone else could afford to show weakness. In fact, they did. Jo had broken down more than once right in front of Y/N, and Dean could clench his fists and grind his teeth in frustration about how unfair this was. Ellen was so defeated, she could hardly even be around Y/N without crying. Sam, however, couldn’t show a flicker of what he truly felt. It didn’t look like she registered most of what was happening around her… but on the off chance that she did, Sam would die a hundred deaths before let her see what the grief was doing to him.

He slowly walked to the seating outside, crumpling on the bench at the corner. How was any of this happening? What deity could have been so cruel as to hurt the purest person to ever breathe? Sam had never gotten over how infinitely good Y/N was. For as long as he had known her, she’d never said one mean thing about anyone. Never. He knew he wouldn’t ever stop marvelling at her goodness. He would marvel as long as he loved her… as long as he lived. And yet, if something this horrifying could happen to her? What hope did the rest of the world have? 

There must be no God, Sam decided. There must be no higher power that weighs good and bad in the world, that takes one look at a person and decides how much suffering or happiness they deserved. Because no such entity would be so callous, so stone-hearted to sentence Y/N to this! 

A heavy hand fell on his shoulder and Sam felt his brother drop into the seat besides him. 

“How’s she doing?”

Sam shrugged. “Much the same.”

“Did Bobby ever tell you that I didn’t talk until I was six?”

Sam turned to his brother with what must have been a look of shock. 

Dean’s eyes tightened, as he stared straight ahead. “He didn’t? I could swear the old man loved to tell that one.”

“I didn’t know.”

Dean tilted his head. “Well, I didn’t talk for two years after the fire. Honestly, I don’t remember it all that much, but death and trauma does that to a person, I’ve been told.”

“She doesn’t even know the extent of it, Dean,” He gasped, his heart doing that thing again where every breath seemed to labour it. 

“Will you love her less for it?”

Sam whipped his head, angry. “Of course not,” he spat. “ _Nothing_ would make me love her less!”

Dean sighed tiredly and Sam realised that it had been a rhetorical question. Sam put his face in his hands, speaking into his palms. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to yell. It’s just that something feels essentially broken inside her. And I don’t know how to fix it… fix her. It makes me feel helpless.”

“You’re not a frickin’ miracle man, Sam! And there isn’t a magical solution for this. Sometimes you have to let grief run its course.”

Dean was making sense, Sam knew that… but he also knew Y/N. Better than anyone alive. He was sure of it… the blankness behind her glassy eyes wasn’t the type that complied with sense or logic. It was a feeling in his gut that he couldn’t explain- not even to Dean, that there was something terribly wrong with her. That it wasn’t simply grief holding her vacant, it was something incomprehensibly beyond that.

“I know you want to be there for her,” Dean said, quieter now. “I know you’re worried, but you’re grieving, too, man. You lost your kid.” His voice broke. “That’s not something you can sweep under the rug.”

Sam bit back the _‘watch me.’_

He felt too tired, too weary and too scared. 

“How am I going to tell her?” He whispered, staring at the floor in horror. “How am I ever going to tell her that she can’t be a mother again? That they had to remove parts of her body because they were too damaged, crushed? She’ll lose it, Dean. You don’t know how much she loved Ch- Ch… “ He choked up… The name just wouldn’t come out. “It was her dream to have her own family.”

She’d whispered it at night, in a awed, hushed voice, under soft sheets about how she had never really had a family. Just Gran and her- two souls shouldering the burden of memories of people they would never see again. Is that what Y/N would think when she found out? That she and Sam would become two such souls?

“She’s coming home tomorrow, right?” Dean said. “We’ll do everything we can to make it okay. With time…”

Even now, with his brother’s hand on his shoulders and his words in the air, Sam knew that this was not the type of grief he would ever get over. No amount of time could bury the dreams and expectations of the little life they had both yearned for. Sam knew that someday it might get easier to bear, even if it seemed impossible right now. However, it would never truly go away. 

With a fierce resolution, he vowed to love Y/N twice as hard! He would do whatever it took to get that smile back on her face, the light back in her eyes. He knew it in the depth of his being that if they were going to make it through this, he had to figure out a way to get her back first.

What Sam didn’t know was that he wouldn’t get the chance. What he didn’t see was the slight figure, standing at the far corner, behind the door, fingers clutching the frame till the knuckles strained. If he had turned, Sam would have known that Y/N had listened to him after all. She had come out for a walk… seen him slumped over in agony and heard his words of anguish. 

She had heard other things in the short nineteen years of her life. Whispers had followed her everywhere since her parents had died in the car crash. Awful words…

_“… Her parents didn’t even live to see her sixth birthday…”_

_“… It starts before that. I heard she wasn’t even three months old when poor Gertrude’s husband passed away…”_

_“… Girl’s a jinx if I saw any… No survivors… ”_

Sam had heard some of it at her Gran’s funeral, and it had boiled his blood. But he hadn’t dreamed, hadn’t estimated for how long Y/N had heard them, how word by word, piece by piece the rumours had lodged themselves in her mind. They had been lost in the recent bout of happiness, but very much there, waiting to cut her open the moment she tripped. She’d never spoken of them to him, afraid that she might really jinx her luck… terrified, in fact. Now she knew that you couldn’t jinx what you didn’t have.

_“…How am I ever going to tell her that she can’t be a mother again.,.”_

Sam didn’t see her turn around. For now he let his brother hold him, feel some of the grief ebb away from him into the vastness of his brother’s love. Sure, Sam didn’t have a mother, and he might miss the idea of having her, but he hadn’t ever missed that unconditional love. Dean was there, always had been and always would be.

Sam would need his brother more than ever tomorrow, when in the ten minutes that it took him to park his car in front of the entrance, the private room where his wife had stayed would be deserted. He would shout her name till his throat was sore, and lose his mind trying to look for her. There would be a missing person report filed which would soon be disposed off, because CCTV grab from the Hospital cameras would show her walking out by herself with the bag that they had brought for her. It had some of her clothes, her wallet recovered after the accident with her identity proofs. There was nothing left behind, not the book, not the brush, not even a note. She had left willingly and without a word.

They wouldn’t believe it, though… He, Dean, Jo and Ellen would all get into their cars and drive for a day and a half, checking all hotels, bus stops, gathering spots, showing her picture to see if anyone recognised her and despairing when no one did. Sam would push himself into a craze over finding his wife, the closest he would come to insanity.

When two days later- having driven almost across two states into Texas- Sam would return home, he’d find the gift delivered to him on the correct date- 2nd May. An etched, black obsidian fountain pen, wrapped in fine silk; the note over it proudly proclaiming: _“With undying love- Y/N Winchester.”_

The etched inscription on the pen would be seared into his soul:

_It’s not time to worry yet - Atticus Finch_

Sam didn’t know any of it. For now, he was simply allowing himself to be comforted by his big brother. Surely finding some peace again wouldn’t be that impossible, right? Surely this agony would have to end sooner or later. Everything seemed possible in Dean’s arms. 


	18. Chapter 18

“Mmmm… fuck…” Sam groaned, shutting his eyes tighter. His head felt like someone had repeatedly stomped on it with iron boots while holding a ton of bricks.

“I feel you on that one,” moaned another voice from somewhere close by. “Do you still want me to pay for this year’s booze?”

“I think I’ve had enough booze to last a lifetime.”

Sam knew exactly where he was. Stretched out on the carpet of his living room floor. There must be, at least, two empty liquor bottles lying around somewhere. Maybe three, except Sam didn’t exactly remember what had happened to the half empty Bacardi bottle. How was it possible that he’d been to a bar the night before and yet ended up drunk on the carpet of his own house? That too in the afternoon?

Sam knew exactly how. 

Jody had pulled him inside, insisting that he could use a glass of whiskey. Sam had suspected that it was more to her benefit than his- she did look shocked- but he had let her pour him one. She had swallowed hers in one bottoms up. 

Sam had to admit that there was something about drinking quietly in the company of a friend. Even if it was early morning and they were supposedly two responsible adults. Especially after life-altering confessions and an inconsolable, bleeding heart. 

Unable to open his eyes now, Sam realised that he had been way too dramatic with Jody. It wasn’t really her fault that she had jumped to conclusions. Anyone would have. If anything, he should have been thankful, not just to her, but also Y/N’s roommate Meg, and that bartender Pam. Her safety concerns had drawn out strong reactions in all of them. She seemed to have surrounded herself with a couple of fiercely loyal people.

One thought about Y/N and the lethargy vanished from Sam’s mind completely. His blood turned electric in his veins. Y/N. The way she had tossed her hair in the bar, the cling of her satin blouse and feel of her skin against his. It was driving him mad. Sam knew he was beyond screwed. This was exactly like the first time around… when the thought of her completely obscured every other logical process of his brain. 

_Jeez. I’m twenty-five again._

“You’re wallowing, Winchester” Jody said from somewhere above him. “I can see it on your face.”

Groaning once more, Sam finally opened his eyes. Yep, she was standing over him, looking down with the expression that reminded him of that one time he had submitted his assignment late. 

“I think I’m mooning again… like a high-school teenager,” he said, sitting up, with his back against the sofa. Jody sat down next to him, mirroring his pose.

She didn’t respond immediately with a jab, which made Sam feel all the more guilty about the outburst. That high-school theory was really starting to feel too real.

“Jody, I’m sorry about last night,” he finally said. “It was uncalled for.”

She shook her head. Sam noticed that her hair was sticking out every which way. Where had _she_ fallen asleep? “I should be the one apologising. I’ve known you for years, kid. I don’t know what made me think you could even do such a thing.” She narrowed her eyes. “There’s just something about her…”

“That makes you want to jump in front of a bullet to protect her,” Sam completed.

Jody pursed her lips. “Well, I wasn’t gonna quite put it like that.”

“Put it any which way,” Sam said, stretching his neck. 

“By the way, you look like crap,” she commented.

“ _I_ don’t have to look at it.”

“What’re you going to do, Sam?”

He gave her a look. “My head’s pounding, Jody. I’d rather not think about it now.”

“You have to think about it sometime. Better now when I’m around, instead of moping by yourself. I know how you get!”

“Hey!”

She gave him the ‘late assignment’ look again. “Seriously, Sam. What _do_ we do?” Her brown eyes bore into his concern and worry.

She’d said _‘we.’_ Sam could have reached out and hugged her. He answered more seriously, “I don’t know. I’ve never brushed up on rules about a professor being in a relationship with a student but I’m pretty sure that it’s not allowed and there are terrible consequences. Not that Y/N and I are…” he trailed off. That thought hurt like a thorn in his side.

“I don’t care about the fucking rules,” Jody said sharply, unclasping her hands from around her knees. “I care about _you_. Doesn’t it hurt to act like you don’t care? To not even look at her in the class? She’s your wife dammit!”

Where would he even begin to answer that? He tried to recall the first few weeks and what it felt to stand there and pretend that she didn’t exist. Jody really did understand the horror of the situation. Sam felt like something was stuck in his throat as he answered. “I thought I would go _deranged_ that first week. I really did. It felt like there was constant shouting, constant chaos in my head.” He took a deep breath, “It’s better now.”

“Wouldn’t have anything to do with Y/N actually talking to you now, would it?” Her face was the perfect poker face. Jody had hit exactly on the exposed nerve.

Sam hung his head. “I’m royally, utterly _screwed_.”

“Hey.” He felt a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not wrong to be in love with your wife.”

Sam was sure that the smile he gave her must have been bitter. “It is very painful to know that she might not love me back.” 

“Didn’t look like it last night when she was wrapped around you.”

Why? Why was Jody doing this? Why was she saying things that would make him hope? Sam didn’t think he could take it.

“She was drunk. She thought it was a dream and I don’t know, Jody. There’s too much in the past.” Too much hurt, too much torment.

“That or you’re being a wussy about this and refusing to face things head on. That’s not the Sam Winchester I know.”

Sam gave her a withering look. She was being bossy and superior in his own house. That too whilst being hungover, in a day old flannel shirt, squatting on the floor of his living room.

“Don’t you have two kids to go back to?”

Jody chuckled. “The girls must have had a party of their own knowing I was out for the whole night.” She stretched her arms. “Admit it. There’s a certain grace in passing out like this.”

Sam scoffed. “Tell that to my back.”

Jody got up unsteadily and Sam had a small moment of smugness knowing he wasn’t the only one nursing a hangover. Immediately his thoughts jumped back to Y/N. Was she okay? It was mental- and if Sam was willing to admit it, slightly embarrassing- how his thoughts kept jumping back to her. 

“Well, Sammy boy,” Jody yawned. “If you’ll excuse me, I’d like a few more hours in my bed.”

He got to his feet, too, body screaming in protest. Maybe a hot shower would fix the ache in his muscles.

At the door, Jody turned to look at him and Sam was blown by the ferocity in her eyes. “This will work out, Sam. It has to work out! For _you_ of all people.”

She threw her arms around his waist and Sam nodded against her shoulders, as he held her tightly. 

Sam sat by himself for a long time on the sofa after Jody left, thinking things through- about last night, today morning and then later, when he and Jody had talked. There was a lot to think about and, for once, Sam appreciated the quiet house. He couldn’t have afforded all this recklessness if he hadn’t been by himself.

Did he regret helping Y/N last night? Hell, no! It had been confusing and tormenting, but the joy of simply being allowed to look at her had drowned the rest a thousand times over. Sam took his time recalling the details of her face. Much hadn’t changed there, except that it was just a bit thinner to look at and the shadows under her eyes were too pronounced for his liking. He knew she had nightmares, that much she had told him herself… though Sam suspected that _the night_ didn’t intrude her mind beyond the subconscious. He couldn’t be sure of course, but there was a feeling in his gut that her mind had simply blocked out the rest. After all, she hadn’t complained about the hospital, the tubes, the pain… or the _loss_. No, she had complained of water and glass and blood. She had complained about the _cold._

Sam shuddered.

The hospital and the tubes were _his_ nightmare… more than that the blank empty look on her face. It froze the depths of Sam’s soul every time he thought of it. He quickly shoved that thought aside. It wouldn’t do any good to go to pieces now, especially when he had other things to sort through. Instead he thought about something else that she’d said last night… something along the lines of how being with him was the best dream she’d dreamt. Sam would cling to that till the end if he had to. She wasn’t averse to him, at least.

Jody had been right about one thing, though- he had to face this head on. He couldn’t pretend anymore. He couldn’t stay away from her. The moment she had clung to him in the bar, this outcome had carved itself out. Hell, maybe Sam had been doomed the very second she had stepped into his class. Maybe he had been pointlessly dragging out his agony. 

_I’m an idiot._

This was inevitable.

As he turned the shower on and let the hot water wash away both the stench of alcohol and the somehow lingering memory of her scent, Sam knew he’d never had a choice. Not then, when he had walked into a bar and seen her sitting by herself in a short dress with a half-eaten cupcake in front of her. And not yesterday, when in another bar, she’d asked for the repeat of Tequila. He knew he would choose her over and over. Even if it hurt each time.

Sam decided then and there that he was going to have to, at least, attempt and talk to her. He knew there was a possibility that she would outright decline. Ask him to get lost. But, at least, he would have tried. Sam didn’t think he could live otherwise. 

* * *

You would have rolled over and gone back to sleep. There was something very heavy about the stupor that kept you under. If it weren’t for the roiling in your stomach, nothing could have dragged you out of bed. The next minute found you with your head inside the toilet. 

“Morning, sweetheart!”

You turned your head reluctantly towards the gloating and found Meg leaning against the bathroom door looking like the Cheshire cat. You wanted to stick your tongue out at her smug expression. No one could look _that_ happy when you were _this_ miserable.

Another twist in your gut and you heaved into the toilet again. 

Why? Why had you done this to yourself?!

“Fun night?”

“Oh, shut up,” you groaned, sitting back down on the cold floor, drawing your knees to yourself. 

Meg chuckled. 

“No wonder you never drink,” she said. “The morning after isn’t very pretty, is it?”

Actually, you had had a worse morning after. Having emptied your stomach, you kind of felt relatively fine. There was no lingering nausea. 

Another chuckle drew your attention. “Alcohol also makes you slow.”

You really did stick your tongue out this time, then looked about yourself. You were still dressed in the clothes from yesterday- the skimpy top and tight jeans that had left the pattern of the seam imprinted along your legs. Not just that, there were angry abrasions on your feet and your eyes felt heavy, swollen. What had gotten into you?

Frowning, you tried to remember the night… the party, and the biting shoes… and then Sam. 

You slapped a hand to your face. “Shit!”

Meg came to sit beside you, like a cat slowly curling in. 

“Here.”

You eyed the pills in her hand. “It’s Advil and an antacid.” She handed you a bottle and you drank from it gratefully, realising that it was the homemade ORS- salt and sugar.

As you drank, you tried to remember some more about what had happened. All that came to you was seeing Sam in the bar, and then the girls fawning over him. The thought pierced you with the same intensity as it had last night. However, suffering through the terrible hangover gave you some perspective. Sam didn’t owe you permissions about spending his nights. He didn’t owe you anything. The only thing you could be mad about was that he hadn’t told you what had happened to James. You had been worrying about it all day long. But it wasn’t like Sam knew you would be there- at a bar of all places. Maybe he would have called you after class on Monday to let you know, the way a professor should.

Even as you made up excuses to justify your behaviour, you knew it was all bullcrap. You weren’t mad that Sam hadn’t told you about James… you were mad because Meredith said he was out on a date. And how had you dealt with your anger? By drinking yourself into memory loss- you remembered nothing after calling for the third round of tequila. 

All you remembered about was the dream. It was so beautiful. In the dream, Sam had held you so very close to him, you could feel the beat of his heart, be warmed by the heat of skin. You were mad at yourself for even waking up. So much for never wanting to think of him, to dream of him. One time it happened and now you were grasping to the memory of the dream like your life depended on it.

“Thanks for this,” you told Meg, raising the water in her general direction. “This always helps me.”

“It wasn’t my idea,” she said. “The guy who got you home last night left it by your bed.”

The bottle fell out of your hand. “What guy?”

“That one from your college.” Meg frowned. “You don’t remember?”

You shook your head limply. Who could it be? Brad? You wanted to turn around and throw up all over again. The mere idea of him touching you was revolting. Or maybe it was one of those other guys with him. You didn’t even know their names. 

Meg caught on to your expression immediately. “I swear if he’s tried anything with you, Y/N!” She started. “Pam should have just called me! I would have picked you up.”

“Hold on! Where did Pam come from?”

Meg stared. “You really don’t remember a thing?”

“No, I don’t!” Your voice had risen by multiple octaves. 

“You went to _The Alibi,_ right? That’s where Pam works. You told her you knew the guy. Sh called you to confirm that you’d reached home safely.”

Seeing the expression on your face, Meg answered your question before you asked it. “She texted me all of that. I checked my phone really late, and I got home as soon as I read her message.”

You wanted to shove your hand inside your head and rankle the brain till all the memories came tumbling out. It was mostly all blank… just odd flashes and a giddy feeling of contentment.

“Pam said you were clinging to that dude,” Meg added to no one’s benefit. 

“SHIT!” You cursed, your hand sliding down your face. “What did this guy look like? Blond hair?”

Meg, who was staring at you with one eyebrow hitched, said, “You’re cursing. You never do that.”

“The guy, Meg?”

“Oh, yeah, right… The guy.” Her brow furrowed. “Wasn’t blond. Long brown hair. Very male model type. And boy… he was tall. I mean _really_ tall.”

All the breath escaped from your mouth with a woosh.

“Hazel eyes?”

“Yep. That’s one.” She remember something else. “Oh, he said his name was Sam.”

In one quick motion you were on your feet. “No no no no no no… This can’t be happening…” You whispered to yourself, willing it to be true. Maybe you were still asleep and still dreaming. Maybe you would wake up soon. 

The sudden epiphany hit you at the same time. That dream… the one from last night… it had _really_ happened. You were pacing too quickly for your addled mind on the bathroom floor.

“Fuck.”

Meg was up in the next second, her fingers tight against your wrist. “Did he hurt you?” 

The seething vitriol in her voice brought you up short, breaking your stride.

“Hurt?” You mumbled, confused. “No. Of course not.”

“But you don’t remember.”

It occurred to you then what she really meant. “No, no,” you said quickly. “Sam wouldn’t.” Even the idea of such a thing wouldn’t take shape in your mind, not even for the sake of imagination. It was sacrilegious.

“Y/N!” Meg grabbed you by shoulders, forcing you to look at her. “Then what’s wrong? You’re scaring me! If he didn’t hurt you, then why’re you such a wreck?”

“Because it’s embarrassing,” you burst out. That was understating things to the highest degree but there was no other way of explaining the complexity. Not without going into all of the backstory, and you knew for a fact that you didn’t have it in you to tell it all.

“You’re this agitated because you’re embarrassed?” Meg challenged, clearly not believing a word.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “He’s… he’s an Ex. From a long time ago… so, yeah, it’s embarrassing.”

“He looked quite at ease on the sofa,” Meg shrugged.

The grudging composure you had managed slipped again. “He stayed? Goddammit!”

Your head was pounding not just from the headache but also from the absolute horror of what might have happened last night. Maybe that image in your head was just that, an image… maybe it was just you holding on to Sam to regain balance. It was still mortifying to imagine him dragging you home, but this way you could, at least, attempt to wrap your head around it. What a wretched thing to have happened! What must he be thinking of you?

“Did he say something?” You asked your roommate. “Anything at all?”

“Just instructions on how to cure your hangover,” she muttered. “Turns out he actually knew what he was talking about.”

You nodded. Maybe it really hadn’t been that bad.

“I don’t know what’s in your past, Y/N, but this guy is bringing out a whole new person in you,” she huffed. You noted there was a small hint of betrayal in her voice. “It’s like I don’t even know this girl standing in front of me right now. I don’t know what’s happened, but you should have seen yourself on my first day in this apartment. And I couldn’t have cared less about your depression then, but if you go back to being like that… I don’t think I can see that. There will be murders if someone hurts you now.”

You knew exactly what she was hinting at and you also knew better than to argue, so you just stepped up and threw your arms around her- as a reassurance that she did in fact know you. You had learned the hard way that your past wasn’t the only thing that defined you. In fact, Meg knew you better than almost anyone here. You also hugged her to reassure and calm yourself. It worked.

“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you everything,” you said against her shoulder. “It’s just that there’s so much and I don’t know where to start.”

At first, Meg stiffened in your embrace, taken aback by your gesture. She’d never seemed much of a hugger, but gradually, she deflated, lightly covering your back with her hands. “Y/N, just look after yourself. I worry about you.” 

“I know you do and I love you for it.” You pushed yourself back and continued from earlier, because you knew Meg would be restless about this. “Sam’s a professor at the Law school- he’s the one Cas told you about. He and I… we were together when I lived in Kansas. I hadn’t seen him in years until now. And, God, Meg, it’s complicated. He’s my professor for crying out loud… and…” You flung your hands out, agitated.

“You still have feelings for him.” 

That was putting things very _mildly_. You sighed, then plopped down on the edge of the tub. “That obvious?”

“Y/N, you’ve been all over the place since you woke up. I’ve never seen you so besides yourself. And don’t even get me started on all the humming and baking after this guy had so much as smiled at you. I haven’t forgotten.”

“It’s complicated,” you repeated.

Meg came to sit down next to you and unexpectedly put her hand on your shoulders. “I think I understand. But if he gives you any trouble, you only have to say the word…”

The promise of absolute violence made you giggle. Talking to Meg made you feel a lot better. The relief was monumental to have someone in the know. “I wish I could just stay here and mope in misery. Unfortunately, I’ve got work.” 

You had the weekend off, but Molly had some urgent business today, so you were covering the first few hours of her shift. You would be back home for the evening.

Giving Meg a squeeze, you got up from the edge and made your way to the door.

“Y/N?”

You turned around to find Meg glaring at the floor. “There’s something I have to tell you, too.”

“Yeah?”

It was difficult to see her struggle so much. “I-” She swallowed, then started again. “I’ve been going out with Cas. For a while now actually.”

“Yeah, I know.” You tried to sound nonchalant. It made her head snap up in shock.

“You knew?”

You rolled her eyes. “Meg, I just hugged you. You _smell_ like Cas.”

With a vindicated air, you winked at your roommate to let her know how happy you were for her. Her returning smile was exceptional.

Meg didn’t seem to want to elaborate on that. Maybe that was more than she was used to sharing with anyone. You didn’t press; she would tell you more when she was ready. She looked as content as you felt.

After Meg had left the bathroom, you hurriedly took a shower and changed into something that was well-suited for the work day- your favorite flowy skirt which ended just above your knee and a tank top. Pulling on your sweater, you glanced into the mirror. The girl staring back looked like someone who’d had one too many at the bar the night before, but fortunately you didn’t feel like it. Thanks to Sam… because he knew exactly how to deal with your nausea. He’d done it too many time when-

You stopped the thought, mental shutters coming down at blinding speed, brain automatically diverting to the next thought- worry about how to get through the rest of the day. _I can do this,_ you told yourself. All you had to do was pretend that last night had never happened. Very easy.

It wasn’t easy. 

After you waved to Meg, who looked very sanguine for no particular reason, you took off towards the library. On the way, your mind kept going back to what might have happened, over-analysing every word that Meg had said. So Sam had left the bar with you and never returned- that had to mean he hadn’t been on a date. You weren’t proud of the rush of relief you felt at that. You had no right to feel any relief, though. You didn’t own Sam… in all likeliness, he might have had the marriage annulled years ago. It couldn’t be a divorce because that would have necessitated your presence. No, it would be an annulment sighting _abandonment._

You knew the procedure very well. First a notice to your last known address, then one in the newspaper. Another notice would be filed under your home county jurisdiction. It would be followed by a waiting period of six months for you to respond. When you hadn’t, the courts would have granted him the annulment, assuming that you had received a notice and then chosen to ignore it. Sam would have been eligible for that two years after you’d left. And why wouldn’t he have taken the option and permanently ridden himself of the girl who left without a word?

 _Annulment._ The legal process of eliminating a union by lawfully declaring it null and void. As if it had never even happened.

It didn’t sting as much now… not like the first week at Stanford, when you had first realised that now he was _nothing_ but your professor. Not like when the girls had been eyeing him, wondering if he was married and you had noticed the absence of a ring on his finger like a knife to the gut. 

You had known it all along, all through these years. You hadn’t kept tabs on the newspaper, nor had you checked for the served notice to be sure, because sometimes, denial became the force that let you live through the day. Denial and a false imagination had kept you wrapped in that bubble for years, not letting you feel anything except numbness. But once faced with Sam, you couldn’t live through a minute knowing that he wasn’t yours anymore. To see him each day and have no right to love him, all the while knowing that it was your doing. That had been the main reason why you couldn’t go back to the senselessness of before. Now, you had to deal with feeling again. 

Absently, you stashed your satchel under the desk and logged in to your PC, going through the motion of tagging the book queries in the mail, thinking about how much had changed since that first week of college.

Sam, who wouldn’t even look at you, had been more than cordial only the day before yesterday. Not only had he willingly accepted your help with James’s case, he’d also lightly teased you a couple of times. His clear hazel eyes had never held even a hint of hatred. There had been shock on the first day, and again in his office, when you had returned his coat, but never disgust or loathing.

Maybe all those years had been enough for him to move on completely… even from the loathing that surely must have been there. The thought should have been comforting. Instead, it was just disheartening. Had it been _that easy_ for him to move on?

You crushed that ugly thought, trying to be happy that he had somehow found peace, because clearly he had. There was a surety and calm behind his eyes that came only with being content. Something… or someone in his life was just _right_ , to have allowed him this. Yes, you decided, you should be happy for him. Sam deserved nothing but absolute happiness, even if it came from having another girl in his life.

That made you circle back to your earlier thought. He was by himself at the bar… so maybe there was no girl? It was too emotionally confusing to think about it over and over, so you moved on to the next bit- Sam had stayed last night. 

What could have possibly made him stay? He had been very careful around you the day before, so surely it hadn’t been his idea. Had you…? Had you asked him to stay? For the hundredth time the frustration of not remembering overwhelmed you. This time it brought burning embarrassment with it. You wrestled with the shame for a while before it occurred to you that Sam had still _chosen_ to stay. He knew the story well enough from Jo having repeated it a thousand times, about how you didn’t remember anything after two shots. Even if you _had_ asked him to stay, he could have just left anyway? You wouldn’t have remembered. And Sam knew that.

So maybe you hadn’t asked after all. Maybe since you were so drunk out of your mind, that concern had made him stay. It was still embarrassing to imagine you being that out of it with him, but, at least, it was better than the idea of you begging him to stay.

It meant Sam was concerned about you… that he cared, still. Enough to stay till Meg returned, to leave his coat in the library when you were cold, to still wear the same cologne that you had gifted him. Hell, he even remembered what your cookies tasted like. 

Maybe, just maybe, facing him wouldn’t be all that hard.

“You look better that I thought you would.”

Your head snapped up to see Sam standing in front of your desk, smiling ruefully down at you. He was wearing a cotton plaid shirt over faded blue jeans, looking a lot like the Sam you knew. Your heart twisted in a quick burst of longing.

“Actually, you look even better than I feel,” he added, almost grumbling.

“What happened to you?”

He bit his lip. “Same thing that happened to you last night. I just did it to myself first thing in the morning.”

No one else would have noticed it. Hell, even you weren’t sure, but something in his attitude told you that he was trying very hard to appear casual. 

“Look-” You started, wracking your brain for the right kind of apology, but he put his hand up. 

“Don’t. We’ve all been there,” he said. “Bar reviews are part of the Law life.”

You had to smile at the extremely smart double puns. A small giggle escaped your lips and you threw your hand against your mouth. Sam’s eyes softened at the sound and just like that there was a pit in your stomach.

“Also, I didn’t come here to remind you about last night,” Sam said, before you could begin your apology again. “I was hoping to find you here to let you know about James. He walked away with just a few weeks of community service. He’s free of all charges.”

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” You exclaimed. “That poor boy didn’t deserve to be dragged into all of this. Thank you for telling me. I had been anxious all day yesterday.” _Until I decided to drown myself in tequila that is._

Sam smiled. “Of course, I had to tell you.” He hesitated, and then seemed to add reluctantly. “I almost emailed you, actually.”

You had thought about emailing him, too! You hadn’t been that far off. 

“Sam-”

“Hey, you’re back!” Molly said, patting Sam on the back as she came up from behind. “Don’t tell me you’re harassing poor Y/N over paper tags.”

“I was harassing her over a case matter, but sure, I’ll add the tags, too,” he grinned at her.

Molly guffawed loudly, the sound cutting off suddenly as she realised she was in the library.

“Mi querida!” she said, giving you an air kiss. “You’re a lifesaver! Literally no one would have agreed to cover hours on a free weekend. No one but you.”

“It’s nothing,” you told her honestly. “I wasn’t doing anything better at home, trust me,”

“I think, I’m starting to like you the best,” she mused, then waved her fingers at you. “Now, off you go! Make the most out of the rest of your weekend. I don’t want to see your face before Monday.”

“But-”

“No, not even if you want to study. Now get lost.”

Awkwardly and hyper-aware of Sam, who had just witnessed the whole exchange, you started packing your bag, then slung it over your shoulder.

Just when you were desperately trying to come up with something to say: _Sorry- thank you- thank God for James_ or even… _I still love you beyond reason_ , Sam spoke.

“Y/N?” He asked quietly, eyes nervous. “I was wondering if you have the time to grab a cup of coffee with me?”


	19. Chapter 19

“Coffee?” She squeaked, gulping, eyes going wide. 

“Or not,” Sam said quickly, panic rising inside him like a tidal wave. She didn’t want to spend time with him after all. Heartbreak stronger than what he could have imagined ripped through him. So everything that she’d said last night…

“I-” Y/N started to say, clearly taken aback. It was so easy to read her face that Sam wanted to kick himself for even thinking that this was a good idea.

“It’s alright,” he said, voice low. “I understand if you don’t want to.”

“I want to,” she protested immediately, then seemed to regret the haste. “I mean… coffee sounds nice. I just… didn’t expect…” her voice trailed off.

She was being honest. Sam could, at least, see that. 

“I thought maybe we should talk,” he said, then added carefully. “Catch up.”

Y/N nodded, a speculative look in her eyes. 

Her eyes. Just like that Sam was lost, marveling at the beauty of them and how they were the most beautiful pair of eyes in the world.

_Get a grip!_

He had to scold himself to keep his hungover head on track. “I think we could both use some caffeine after all.”

“Give me a minute.”

Sam saw her rush into the librarian’s room. When she came back, she had a pretty paisley scarf wrapped around her neck. The sheen of the silk reminded Sam of the satin she’d been wearing last night and again, he had to wrench himself back to the present.

What was happening? This was worse than being fixated on a high school crush.

Worse because he didn’t have the excuse of being a hormone driven teenager; because he didn’t want to bring up the pain of the past or face the uncertainty of the future. This was worse because he couldn’t say any of it to her here, where he was a professor and she was a student.

“Ready,” she breathed, coming to stand next to him.

“Where do you want to go?” He asked as they stepped out of the library and walked along the long corridor of the quad overlooking the shadowed trees. 

Y/N pursed her lips. “I actually don’t know any places around here. Just the campus cafes.”

Sam was through with students spotting him, at least for a week. The last thing he needed was someone to rush up to him now.

“I think I know just the place.”

Y/N walked quietly besides him. Sam didn’t peek to see the expression on her face; he stared straight ahead. If he sneaked a glance and found her to be apprehensive, he didn’t think his nerves could take it. Better to assume that she was lost in thought than to confirm she was regretting her decision.

The small café was very close to his home, and thereby hers too. Just two lanes down. Sam had discovered it by fluke on a morning jog, nestled in a small niche of the college town. The café wasn’t grand, which made it all the more cozy. He grabbed his coffee every morning from here before heading for classes or work. Fortunately, the place didn’t have many students coming there. They mostly just preferred the Starbucks on the campus or the other scattered cafes with more seating space. 

Sam opened the door for Y/N, and she stepped in with a murmured thank you. He saw her eyes take in the low ceiling, paneled in dark wood and supported by long wooden beams. The furniture was eclectic and mismatched, as if it had been put together at different times- which it probably had. She would like it, he thought. It was exactly her style.

The barista, Suzy, grinned when she saw him. 

“There you are!” She admonished him. “I thought my most reliable customer had abandoned me.”

Sam shook his head at her. “I had to be in LA for a couple of days… that sort of thing…”

He felt Y/N’s curious gaze on his face. But what was he gonna tell Suzy? That he had been too busy pining after Y/N to make a round? 

“We missed you around here,” she said, then called back, “Ain’t that right, Matt?”

“My Sun wouldn’t rise without seeing your face!” Matt yelled from somewhere inside and Sam chuckled.

“The usual?” Suzy asked and Sam nodded. 

She turned to Y/N, “What can we get you, ma’am?”

“A Cappuccino, please.”

“Regular?”

“Large, please.”

Sam threw her a swift look. All that caffeine on a weak stomach?

“What name do I write?” 

“Oh, it’s not to go,” Sam said quickly. “ We’ll have it here.” 

Suzy raised her eyebrow, her eyes flitting between him and Y/N curiously.

Sam hurriedly turned, gesturing towards the table at the very end, next to the window. It was his favorite place here. 

The memories he had in Stanford, in California were all his. Nothing here had ever been touched by Y/N. Wasn’t that why he had moved from New York, because he couldn’t live in that apartment anymore? Moved across the damn country to escape the pain? And here he was subtly including her in all his new memories, too. Sam could barely think of the library without imagining her behind the desk. Could he come to his café now without thinking of her?

So lost was he in the thought, that before he could pull the chair for her, Y/N had seated herself. Slowly, he sat down opposite to her.

Before Sam could say anything, Y/N burst out. “I’m so sorry about last night! I don’t know what had gotten into me.”

Sam knew. She had been mad at him for going out on a date. While it had made him angry yesterday, today, it just made him feel a tiny bit smug. Y/N apparently didn’t know that he knew.

“You don’t need to apologize-” he started, but she cut him off.

“Just let me get through this, please?” She pleaded.

Had he _ever_ said ‘no’ to her ‘please?’ Sam didn’t think so. He motioned with his hand to continue, giving up.

“I just… It’s very embarrassing to even think about you having to take me home like that,” she slapped her hand across her forehead. “Your evening was ruined because of me. I can’t tell you how sorry I am, or even how ashamed-”

“Y/N-” he cut in, despite having committed to listening to her. It was simply inacceptable to let her stew in this feeling if he could help it. “You didn’t ruin my evening. If anything, you saved me.”

“What?”

“I ran into a couple of girls- oh, from your class. It wasn’t very comfortable,” he admitted. “I didn’t even want to be at the bar to begin with. To top it off, Jody kinda stood me up. You were my knight in shining armour.”

“More like dame sloshing with alcohol,” she snorted. “I’m sorry about Rebecca and Lacey. To be fair, I _did_ try to stop them.”

“Thanks for looking out for me,” he said, and then couldn’t help but tease. “You don’t like them very much, do you?”

Y/N bit her lip. “It’s not like that.”

It totally was. He could see it all over her face- the guilt that she had given away her bad impression of someone. It just wasn’t like her to think ill of anyone. All the same, Sam wondered why she didn’t like them. Had they been _mean_ to her?

“I hope I didn’t say or do anything that I shouldn’t have last night.” she was looking down at her hands. 

“You really don’t remember, do you?” Even to him, his voice sounded chagrined and defeated. 

“No, I don’t.” Her brows furrowed, voice rising. “Did I do something? What happened last night?”

Sam took a deep breath, and said with as much confidence as he could muster. “Nothing happened. I walked you home and you went straight to bed. That’s all.”

“So we didn’t sit on a sidewalk anywhere?”

Shit. Lying to her was going to be dicey if she even remembered bits and parts. 

So, instead of answering her question, Sam countered, “What _do_ you remember?”

The hand on her forehead slid down to cover part of her face. “Nothing,” she groaned, trying hard to think. “I remember absolutely nothing. One minute I was asking for the- gosh, I don’t even remember what number drink it was and the next moment I was throwing up in the toilet.”

Sam winced. “That bad, huh?”

Y/N shook her head. “Not really. I feel fine now. Fine enough to risk a large coffee.” She tilted her head towards the cup before her.

There was one in front of him, too. Where had the coffee come from? He hadn’t even noticed anyone place it on the table.

“Thanks for the water,” she added. “It made all the difference, I think.”

“I’m glad.”

“You didn’t tell me, though,” she insisted, not giving in to his track change. “Did we ever sit on a footpath?”

The impatience and doubt in her voice hinted that she might be remembering exactly what he was. Her hands around his waist, fingers digging into his shirt. Clearly, telling her the truth would only upset her. It was better to play safe.

“Just for a bit. Your feet were hurting.”

“You’re being very illusive,” she accused, eyes narrowed.

“And that’s how I make my living,” he grinned. “Really, though. You were mostly out of it. You fell asleep the minute your head hit the sack.”

“Why did you stay, then?”

Y/N could put the Spanish inquisition to shame, Sam thought, asking the exact questions he didn’t want to answer. 

She’d make a damn good attorney.

“Because I was worried you might get nauseous and then trip on the way to the bathroom.”

“Uhhhgg. This is the worst,” she threw her hands up. “I wish there was some way I could erase that out of your memory.”

If there had been a way, Sam would have resisted with the last bit of his strength. There was no chance he was ever ridding his mind of even a second from last night. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up,” he said as lightly as he could. “After all, you did save me from those girls last night. Consider us even.”

“You guys want anything else?”

Sam looked up to see Matt standing over him with a huge grin. Sam could take a few guesses about what was on Matt’s mind.

Ignoring Matt’s smirk, Sam looked at Y/N expectantly. 

“Nothing for me. Thank you,” she said shyly.

“The usual for you, Sam?” Matt wiggled his eyebrows. 

He sighed. “I don’t have a _usual_ for food, Matt. You know that I don’t eat here.”

“You liked that burger one time,” he reminded, lingering on purpose, eyes flitting curiously to Y/N for just a second.

“Fine. Get the burger!” _And maybe leave us alone._

“Okie dokie,” he grinned again, whistling as he went away, no doubt to gloat to Suzy about how he has successfully taken Sam’s case up.

“Make it to go,” Sam hollered after him.

Right then, his cellphone rang shrilly. Excited, Sam looked at the screen, then rolled his eyes in slight disappointment when he read the name. He put the phone to his ear. “Chase.”

“Samuel!” The voice drawled on the other end. “How be it going, m’ boy?”

“Don’t call me that,” Sam said, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

“Samuel or m’ boy?”

“Both, just both.” He sighed. “What do you want?”

Y/N was sipping on her coffee, trying to look inconspicuous, but really, it wasn’t like she could avoid listening in on the conversation.

“You were supposed to be at the office, why is your cabin empty?”

Sam knew very well that he had to go through the depositions once more before the hearing on Monday. Chase was the primary, and he wasn’t very confident. He’d asked Sam to go through it. In fact, he’d had Stacey- Sam’s secretary- to put it on Sam’s calendar.

“I’m a bit hungover right now. Just mail the depositions to me?”

“No can do. Come over tomorrow. I want to go over the papers with you.”

“It’s a Sunday!”

Chase laughed. “And when has that stopped you from working?”

It hadn’t, but Sam couldn’t go tomorrow. He had been waiting for a solid month, dragging his way through the day by looking at the photo by his bedside. He couldn’t say that out loud with Y/N here, though. 

“Chase,” he said carefully. “I _can’t_ tomorrow. You know what day it is.”

“Oh, right! But I won’t take your whole day. Just drop by in the morning, I swear it won’t be more than an hour. And I’ll owe you one.”

“I’m starting to think, having you owe one is even worse than owing you one.”

Y/N giggled into the cup and then tried to conceal it by coughing. It made Sam smile automatically, but also got him annoyed that he was wasting this stolen time with her on a phone call from Chase Lincoln of all people.

“If that’s it then,” Sam said, pulling the phone away from his ear when Chase’s protests sounded.

“No nooo wait. We didn’t even talk about the weekend.”

“What about the weekend?” 

“It’s the Induction fair, isn’t it?” Chase sounded appalled. “Don’t you teach there? You ought to know, man! We’ll have a blast.”

“It’s only the induction fair. It’s the same every year.”

“But this year Jess is coming.” Chase stressed. Sam could almost see his shit eating grin. “Ask her out this time, please? By now, you’ll have to relearn how to be around a girl!”

Oh the irony. Sam just might get to be around _the_ girl, if Chase would just shut up. 

“Goodbye, Lincoln!” Sam cut the call, impossibly irritated. Y/N was already done with her coffee while he hadn’t touched his.

“I’m sorry,” he apologised. “It’s work.”

“That’s fine,” she waved it off. “It sounded like you were talking to a friend.”

Chase _was_ his friend- at least when he wasn’t interrupting. He had been working with Sam for years now, as his junior associate. Somewhere between staying up at nights, poring over casefiles and silent, calculative glances in courtrooms, they had become _friends._

“He’s alright,” Sam shrugged.

“Were you talking about the Stanford Induction Fair?” 

There was a twinkle in her eye. Y/N was clearly very excited about this. And despite how grumpy he had been when Chase had brought the topic up, Sam wanted to talk all about the Induction fair now. It was fairly basic. The alumni came over for talks and activities. There was a lot of drinking.

“Yes,” he said. “You’re heading the Committee, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, I am, but you don’t like it very much.” She surmised. Funny how even now, she got him just like that. 

“It means long days and nights, especially since I’ve been invited for a talk,” Sam answered more fully. “Chase is a couple years younger. We were in Stanford at the same time, but I didn’t know him then. He’s usually excited for these kinds of things. Happy to show off for the college girls.”

Y/N giggled. “How will it be different for you?”

“Well, I get to dress casually and bully you newbies around if I want to,” he said, “And oh, you get to call me Sam for the day.”

It wasn’t the right thing to say, because her face fell for an instant. It was a reminder of the past, even if he hadn’t meant it that way- of how things had changed. So Sam had been right in his assessment after all. She had suppressed a good chunk of past, buried it so deep down that not even the light of conscious thoughts touched it. 

Y/N rearranged her features back into a smile, the corner of her lips quirked up. “I’m sure the girls club will have a field day with that one.”

Sam felt his cheeks heat up. Here’s something he hadn’t expected. To have his wife tease him about other girls. He was even less excited about the induction knowing that Jess would be there. That was bound to be awkward as it was, but with Y/N heading the preparation, he didn’t know how to maneuver around. He could hope that Y/N wouldn’t remember about his college girlfriend, but it didn’t seem likely. If Y/N had dated anyone before him, Sam wouldn’t have forgotten the name, either.

Jess coming here was like an omen that Sam couldn’t outrun his past. More than that, he couldn’t outrun the conversation he had been putting off for so long now. The hard part was doing it without opening her buried wounds. 

He took a sip of his now cold coffee. “Where does this leave us, Y/N?” Did she notice how his voice softened when he said her name? How could she not? “What’re we going to do?”

“I don’t know,” she said, slowly… almost like her voice was choking up. “I don’t know what to do. But, I do know that I can’t go back to _not talking_. I can’t go back to that first week. I just can’t.” She was rapidly blinking her eyes.

“I suppose we can, at least, be friends, right?” Sam asked, keeping the hopeless yearning out of his voice and almost succeeding. It was beyond dramatic, but Sam knew he would be devastated if she refused. “We’d started out as friends. We can still do that.”

_Don’t say no, Don’t say no._

“What about college?” She asked. “No one can know.”

The relief was a plausible, physical thing. She wasn’t refusing… she was just being pragmatic.

“Then we don’t tell anyone,” he suggested. “How hard can it be?”

Her voice was grim, when she said, “Wouldn’t be the hardest thing in the world.”

* * *

You had known that this place was special to Sam the moment the barista’s eyes had lit up, but as he picked up his parcel while leaving, you noticed how Suzy and Matt kept exchanging loaded glances with each other. It looked like Sam was going to have a lot of questions to answer when he came back alone. You weren’t clueless about what was happening. Those two were going to hound him about _you_ , about his date. 

But was that what this was? A date?

He had asked you out, picked the place and paid the bill, despite your protests. In fact, if you didn’t know better, you might have construed all that teasing as light flirting. On your part, you definitely didn’t interact with other people like this. Just Sam. It had always just been Sam.

At first you had feared that he was going to be mad about last night, or worse, hurl all the accusations of the past. Not that you didn’t deserve it, but that would mean the end of whatever you had going for you right now- this careful and fragile relation that Sam wanted to call friendship. You were dubious about the prospect because being with him was like falling. Once you tipped off the edge, you could never go back to the way it was. You could only hurtle downwards with insurmountable speed. Who could ever fight gravity? Loving him was exactly like that- like gravity. Even when you had been standing at the edge of the cliff, resisting that fall, it was his love that kept you tethered to the ground.

“You’re quiet,” he noted, walking next to you.

And despite your better judgement, you spit out the truth, “I’m waiting for you to… not be so calm.”

He didn’t say anything, and when you couldn’t take it anymore, you looked up at his face. Sam was frowning lightly, not like he was angry, but like he was trying to frame words. “It’s not coming, Y/N. Anger or whatever it is you’re waiting for.” He looked at you for just a split second and you saw through him clearly in that moment. 

Sam had been angry at some point, maybe even more than that. Your insides started to feel like they were being pierced with tiny needles at the thought of what must have happened after you left. You couldn’t let yourself think about it, and Sam could see that. He could see right through you, and just how easy it would be to riddle you with holes by firing questions. Maybe he still cared enough to not want to see you in such a pitiable state. Or maybe the anger wasn’t coming now. Either way, he didn’t seem to want to elaborate, and you were too damn scared to ask. 

There was something else that you wanted to know about. You had been dying to know since you first saw him.

“Can I ask you something?” You asked hesitantly.

Sam looked wary but he nodded. “Sure, anything.”

“How’s….” Your throat closed up. “How’s Jo? And Dean and aunt El?”

Sam’s stiff shoulders relaxed and a hint of a smile touched his lips. You felt yourself deflate right along with him, the answer clear on his face before he even spoke the words. 

“Jo-” The grin widened- “Jo’s doing great. She runs the diner now… took over from Ellen five years ago. Ellen’s part of this biker gang. From what I know, she’s loving life on the road. Jo’s expanding the business, owns two more diners. And Dean’s pretty much the same. They got married two summers ago.”

You stopped walking. “Got… _married_ …?” You blinked, feeling a wetness at the corner of your eyes. And yet your lips were stretching into a smile.

“Yes,” he said smiling, as well, “They’re very happy.”

You hurried to wipe your tears, feeling the extreme joy warring against the immense sadness. Jo and Dean deserved this happiness more than about anyone you knew. You had teased your cousin endlessly about how they might end up having the same surname one day, and then they would be twice the sisters than they already were. Every cell in your body missed her.

Sam seemed to be on the verge of adding some more, but he stopped himself. You wondered what it was that he wasn’t telling you. Was it the same church they had married in? Had she missed you? Did she still miss you at all? 

If that was the case, you were glad that Sam didn’t say anything more. You didn’t know what would hurt worse- the confirmation or the denial. As for you? You were elated that your family was safe and happy.

It wasn’t hard to see that Sam had been very careful today about what he said, clearly being evasive, but you wouldn’t dream of pushing him on that. Whatever you were getting out of his words, his company and his kindness was still more than you could ever ask for. You knew that very well.

The two of you were almost to the turn of your building, the high wall with creepers coming into view.

“Y/N,” Sam said as you reached the gate- each time he said your name, a spark flew through your body. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you… from the very moment I saw you.”

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered.

“I-“ He whispered, voice fervent, "I’m… just so incredibly proud of you, Y/N! You did it! You got into Stanford!”

He breathed out heavily, as if the words had been waiting to burst out.

“They were running through resumes to form the committee for the induction fair, I happened to read yours,” Sam continued, “Pre-law and a license for paralegal practice while working two jobs? That’s just-” he looked around to find the right word- “That’s _phenomenal!_ And you got in with a full-ride! Not that I doubted it for a second. But it doesn’t make me feel any less vindicated. Doesn’t make me any less proud.”

You put your face in both your hands and finally started shaking, crying into your palms.

“Hey?” Very tentatively his hand landed on your shoulder, his fingers curling to the shape of it. “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, not taking your hands away from your face. What were you going to tell him? That you didn’t think there was anyone left anymore who’d be happy for you? Let alone be _proud?_ The day that you had opened the acceptance letter for Stanford, your very soul wanted to run towards Sam, the way your nineteen year old self had, barefooted and in pouring rain. Even in those dark days, when you tried with all your might to not think about him, for that one day you had allowed yourself to freely imagine how Sam would have reacted to the news. He had always pushed you, drilled it in your head that no law school was beneath you. He’d wanted this for you more than you had wanted it for yourself. And here you were, getting to live the moment. See the absolute victory in his eyes.

Sam’s grip on your shoulder tightened. “Y/N, you have to know, no matter the circumstances, no matter if we had met or not, I would’ve always been proud of you. _Always_. You can’t seriously question that!”

It made you cry harder. 

Sam’s other hand came to rest over yours, on your face. “You know those girls in your apartment _really_ don’t like me. I swear if they see you crying now, one of them is going to come at me with a machete.”

You laughed despite yourself and turned a bit to wipe your face on your scarf. It was regretful that it meant Sam had to drop both his hands. You could smell his cologne, the one that you’d gifted him.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “Yesterday I passed out on you and today I’m a blubbering mess.”

Beyond the tall gates, the fountain in the meadow gurgled softly.

“I guess I’ll see you Monday, then?” You asked, feeling more dejected than you should have. 

“Soon,” Sam sighed, and absentmindedly, from the sheer force of habit, just like he had done a hundred times before, he stepped, hand twitching to reach out to your cheek. Halfway there, he took a deep breath and placed it against your arm instead. “I’ll see you soon, Y/N.”

With that he sidestepped and started walking back the way you had come. You stared after him. Just around the corner he turned back and called. “Go in, it’s starting to get cold. And oh, say hi to Judgy Judy for me!” With a wink he turned the corner and disappeared out of sight.

Judgy Judy? What the hell had happened last night?

In a daze, you crossed the meadow and climbed up the stairs, completely forgetting the lift. Lost in thought, you turned the key in the lock and were met by an uproar the moment the door opened.

“See, now you’re dead, Y/N!” Kevin said, exasperated.

“Excuse me, what?”

Kevin was standing on the Sofa along with Jack. Meg was sitting on the kitchen island with both her feet drawn up and Cas was standing on the parapet of the balcony.

“And now you’re deader than dead. Get out of the lava!” Jack sighed.

Either you were very slow or the world wasn’t making sense anymore.

“We’re playing the _floor is lava_ ,” Cas explained patiently from the other end of the room. “And you’re charring very quickly by standing there.”

You yanked your shoes and hurried over to Meg’s bean bag, opposite to the balcony and jumped on it. 

“It doesn’t matter now, you’re already dead,” Kevin announced.

“Hey, asshole, it’s her house,” Meg said. “She gets an extra life, or you get kicked out. Take a pick.”

“Fine, if you want to play it like that,” Kevin huffed. 

The bean bag was placed such that you were standing closest to Cas, who turned slightly pink when he met your gaze. So Meg had told him that you knew. 

You threw him a huge grin, but Cas’s eyes zeroed in on you. “Have you been crying?” He asked. 

Well, so much for escaping the observant guys of this building. You shook your head. 

“I’m standing on the balcony, you know. I can see the gate from here,” he said mildly. Cas wasn’t trying to force anything out of you, he was just concerned, which made it even easier to tell him.

“I’m really happy, Cas. Don’t worry about it.”

His blue eyes tightened for a second, then the twinkle returned in them. “You’re happy,” he said, lips twitching, “But are you alive?” The next moment, he stepped on the bean bag, throwing you out of balance and you had to step down on the carpet to steady yourself.

“C’mon, she’s dead for real this time,” Kevin complained, looking at Meg, who shrugged. 

“I tried, Y/N.”

But you were happy to take the next turn to be the counter as everyone scrambled up again, and take the turn after that, and do it with a smile. Tonight you wouldn’t stop smiling.


	20. Chapter 20

“Add the mayonnaise,” Kevin ordered from across the aisle. “The big one, if you please?”

Dutifully you reached for the big jar and added it to your trolley, on top of all your baking supplies. You had been running awfully low on those.

“You’d think they were the ones who were paying the bill and your rent,” Pam said next to you. “You baby those boys too much, Y/N.”

You, Pam, Kevin and Jack had decided to catch up on the grocery shopping since it was Sunday. Cas and Meg had made up extremely improbable excuses and refused. You didn’t understand how the others couldn’t see it. It was right there.

“I don’t mind,” you said. “It’s homely to listen to them chatter.”

“Doesn’t mean you have to feed them.”

As if to punctuate the point, Jack dropped a bag of Doritos and a few nougat bars in the trolley. 

Towards the end of the aisle, Pam picked up a couple of six packs and then grinned in your direction.

You groaned, “You’re never going to let me forget that, are you?”

“Maybe after I die,” she mused. “Or maybe not. I think I’ll find a way to haunt you.”

You laughed. “I’m sure I was very entertaining.”

“You wanted to climb on the bar.”

“Thought it was something like that,” you muttered grimly.

Pam eyed you uncertainly. “Can I ask you who that man was?”

You sighed. This was bound to come up at some point. “He’s… we were together once. Long time ago.”

“I gave him a hard time,” She looked apologetic. “But can you blame me? A hunk like that shows up, sweeping you in his arms. What was I to make of it?”

“Sweeping me in his arms?”

“You were falling off from the bar.”

Would it ever get less embarrassing? Probably not. It gave you an idea, though. If Sam wouldn’t tell you what had happened, you could ask Pam. Clearly she wasn’t trying to hold back on any details.

“You two aren’t going out now, are you?” 

“No,” you sighed. “Whatever gave you that idea?”

“Well, for one the guy is clearly hung up on you. And you were clinging to him like your life depended on it.”

Blood rose to your face at the mere thought. No wonder Sam had been so evasive. A small part of you was angry because if you were going to cling to him, you might have, at least, remembered!

“And he knew you very well. From what I can tell, he kept his promise of getting you home safely. I called you to make sure and you sang all of ‘ _Can you feel the love tonight.”_

“Yeah, I know _why_ you won’t let it go,” you moaned. “It’s like I gave you the ammunition and for good measures pointed the gun at myself.”

“Yep!”

Talking to both Meg and Pam about this was very restful because you knew they weren’t in this gossip, they were really concerned. You couldn’t imagine having this conversation with someone like Lacey or even Madison. Not that Madison would want you harmed in any way, but it was always different with her. Sam wasn’t a stranger to her. 

Then you remembered something, “Hey, why did you say that he was hung up on me?”

“Because he was treating you like you were made of glass. Never seen a man that big treat someone so gently. And something about the way he looked was shouting that he was terrified of being handed the responsibility of taking you home. That’s what actually made me trust him.”

Pam didn’t know the past, so her assumptions couldn’t very well be accurate. You sighed.

“What do you think about this week?” Kevin asked when you were out on the sidewalk, munching on the Doritos Jack had bought. Jack was bound to be pissed about it after he returned from his date with Claire. 

“I don’t think it’s happening, Kev,” you soothed. “It’s October. You can’t seriously expect rains.”

“You say what you want, Y/N,” he maintained. “It’s gonna rain and one of these weeks you’re gonna lose the bet.”

Pam had sided with Kevin- mostly for sympathy, you suspected- but everyone else was of the same opinion. It was more likely to be fried in California this week. The sun was merciless.

You unloaded the groceries in relative peace, putting away the stuff that belonged to the fridge including Kev’s mayo. He raided the fridge first thing after coming over, he’d know where to find it. Since you had the rest of the day free, you contemplated going to the campus to catch up on your hypos and get ahead on the induction fair planning. There was some serious brainwork to be put in and sitting on the sofa wouldn’t help because you would keep imagining Sam here.

Knowing that Molly would explode if you set foot in the law library, you turned at the quad and headed for the Green library. The long bookshelves and dark mahogany tables, however, didn’t help with your distraction; soft hazel eyes still made their way into your mind. It was ridiculous how much you wanted to go find Sam and be with him. Absolutely ridiculous. Whatever had happened to your month long composure? Where you had managed to both concentrate in his class and be productive otherwise. This? This was utter chaos. 

With a frustrated noise, you shut your book and shoved it into your bag, annoyed at yourself. Surely Sam wasn’t this distracted wherever he was. He had seemed very composed yesterday. Composed and beautiful. It was nuts.

You gave up on your feeble attempt at studying and ditched the library, contemplating if you should get lunch at the college café or head out of campus. Finally, deciding that maybe homemade grilled cheese was your bet, you cut across the small playground on the opposite side of the road to get to the apartment quickly.

A sudden commotion caught your eye, making you halt in your stride. 

“No one wants you!” 

Two kids about eight or nine years of age were staring down at another small figure whose face you couldn’t see. The shorter of the two- who wore a baseball cap backwards- was yelling.

“This is our side of the ground. Kids like you are not allowed.”

“No one cares what you think,” a voice came, quiet but steady. “You don’t own the ground.”

The other tall kid shoved at the little boy and he stumbled backwards almost falling to the ground. Instinctively you lurched, but the little boy, who could have been five or maybe six at most, got to his feet quickly. 

“Give me my ball, Gary,” he said. 

Baseball cap kid, Gary, burst out laughing, “Why don’t you take it!” He raised his hands high up and you saw that he was holding what looked like a small basketball out of the boy’s reach. 

The little boy, you noticed- not that you could see him- was slight with a tangle of dark brown hair, his eyes were narrowed, as if he was judging the distance between the ball over his head and estimating if he could make the jump. 

“Why don’t you go cry to your daddy?” The second bully cooed. “Maybe he’ll help you out.”

“Better yet,” Gary added, “Go cry to Mamma! Oh, wait… you don’t have one.”

Both of them burst out laughing.

That’s it. You had heard enough!

“Hey!” You shouted.

Gary and the other jerk kid turned. It took the little boy just a second of their distraction to leap lithely and tap the ball out of Gary’s hand.

Gary turned just in time to bare his teeth, but the boy had broken into a sprint and in a bid to simply get away, ran straight into you. His body crashed into you and then was thrown back from the impact.

The two boys laughed behind him, but one glare from you was enough to make them turn away from the scene and out of the ground.

You knelt down, “Hey, kid, you alright?”

The boy, a bit grimy from the fall, looked up at the sound of your voice. His expression, which was at first slightly guarded, went blank at first, then, his eyes- a rich brown- widened into a stunned expression. His jaw dropped.

“Hey?” You asked, making your voice softer. “Are you hurt?”

The boy said nothing. He was still gawking at you like he had seen a unicorn with five horns. Did he have a concussion or something?

“Are you by yourself?” You tried again. 

You had heard him speak, hadn’t you? Why was he still looking at you like that?

Taking a deep breath, you wondered how to get a response out of him. Coming up with nothing, you dropped down further and sat before him with your legs crossed, furtively trying to give the boy a once over. He mostly seemed fine. His jeans were a bit grimy and his arms were covered in dirt. Otherwise he looked okay. Except…

“Do you want to show me your palms?” You asked, as slowly as you could. Maybe he was scared. You had witnessed kids being jerks to him. 

The boy’s eyes were darting sideways, as if he was looking for someone.

“Your dad’s coming?” You asked, hopefully.

If anything, your words spooked him even more, but this time, at least, he responded as he shook his head quickly.

“Alright,” you smiled, encouraged by the response. “Do you live nearby?”

Another quick nod.

“Look, I know you can talk. So why don’t you help me out a little, buddy? What’s your name?”

Nothing again. 

Maybe the parents- No, parent- had actually done a good job telling him not to interact with strangers. But, then, why leave the kid alone?

“Okay, don’t tell me,” you said. “Let me tell you mine.” You put out your hand. “Hi. I’m, Y/N!”

You didn’t pull back your hand even when he didn’t respond with his own name. Eventually, he put his hand in yours for a shake and smiled.

“Gotcha!” You said, turning over his palm. You were right, there were light scrapes there. His eyes wandered again.

“You’re waiting for someone, aren’t you?” You guessed. “Who is it?”

“Alex,” the boy finally said. You smiled at that, weirdly pleased about the progress you were making. Maybe Alex was his big brother.

You blew lightly over his palm, then pointed towards the open gates of your apartment. “Do you want to come there for a bit? We’ve got a fountain and the water’s always clean. We can wash your hands. We can still see the ground and we’ll be able to see when Alex returns, yeah?”

Normally, you wouldn’t have offered, knowing that you were a complete stranger to this boy. But there was just something about his wide, innocent expression of surprise that tugged at your heart. You couldn’t help but offer. You knew full well that the kid was smart and braced yourself for a rebuff. Instead, he nodded slowly.

Surprised, you got to your feet, and held out your hand. Astonishingly, the boy took it. Carefully, you led him across the road and into the meadow, till you were next to judgy Judy’s parapet. 

The boy stood there, holding his ball protectively against his stomach, staring wide-eyed at the statue of the mermaid as she looked down in disdain. 

“Her name’s Judy,” you told him. “Don’t worry about her. She doesn’t like anybody.”

The boy laughed, a short noise, before schooling his face into what could only be a careful poker face.

Weird that someone so young should be that cautious. What a strange child!

You dipped your hands into the basin and drew some water out. Beckoning him to press his soft hands against yours, you cleaned the scrapes as tenderly as you could. 

“Do you want to wash your arms as well?” You offered, and when he nodded, helped him with that as well. 

“You know, I heard what those kids were saying,” you said quietly, when his face was turned away from you, as you washed his elbows. “Don’t listen to a word. Some of them can be real jerks.”

You knew that better than anyone what it was like to not have a parent and then be reminded of it by nasty children in school playgrounds. It was awful, and this kid looked roughly the same age you were when your parents had died. It was hard. You didn’t know what the deal was with his mom, but just something about the way his shoulders had slumped at Gary’s jab made you think she had passed.

“You know what I did when kids were mean to me?” You continued. “I would remind myself that my parents would want me to be better than the bullies.”

“That worked?”

“Nah, later on I just imagined them stepping on pointy Legos. _That_ worked.”

With his back still towards you, the boy laughed.

“I still think that my parents would have wanted me to be better. At least, that’s what I told myself.”

He turned around to face you. “You didn’t have parents?” His voice was quiet, too quiet.

You shook your head. “Just my grandma.”

“I just have my dad, too.”

Yeah, his mom was definitely gone. You felt a stab in your chest for the kid. 

“Max!”

The two of you turned to the sound of the voice, and you saw a girl about sixteen years or so of age crossing the gate into the meadow. She was holding two ice-cream cones in her hand. 

“What did I tell you about staying put?” She asked, harassed. “And what’re you doing here?”

The girl eyed you suspiciously, and you figured that this was Alex; probably his babysitter.

“Oh, he tripped and scraped his palms in the ground,” you said, hurriedly, trying to save him some yelling. “It was my fault, really. I knocked him down accidentally. We were just trying to get the mud off his hands.”

“You fell down?” Alex’s voice rose an octave in panic. “I leave you for two minutes and you get yourself hurt. Your dad’s gonna kill me!”

Yep, definitely the babysitter.

The boy, Max, rolled his eyes. “You know he’s not. He doesn’t even yell.”

“C’mon,” she said, casting suspicious glances your way. “Let’s get you home. And, here, take your ice-cream.”

The ice-cream in question was already melting away, dripping along the edges of the cone. Shifting his ball under one arm, he carefully took the ice-cream cone from the girl. Then, unexpectedly, raised it to you. 

“You want?”

Taken aback, you shook your head. “Maybe next time,” you said. “You’ve earned this one.”

Nodding to himself, Max took Alex’s held out hand and together they walked away. At the corner of the gate, he turned around to give you one last curious, disbelieving look and then vanished.

Seriously, what a strange kid!

Completely derailed from the constant distraction of Sam for the first time, you made your way to your apartment, wondering if you would see that little boy again.

* * *

Sam sat on the front steps of the house, his coat in his arms and tie hanging loosely from his collar. He didn’t even bother going inside, choosing to wait here, feet tapping a disjointed rhythm. He wanted to be mad at Chase for dragging out the meeting, but couldn’t muster enough attention. There was too much going on in his head. Besides, he’d zoned Chase completely out once he started talking about Jess. 

A bauble of laughter sounded beyond the thicket of trees outside of his yard. Just as Sam drained his neck to get a better look, the small figure came sprinting up his yard. Sam threw his arms out just in time to catch him, burying his face in his boy’s hair.

Max laughed, small arms circling Sam’s neck.

Sam held him tightly for a minute, then pushed him back to get a better look. “Have you… have you grown taller?”

“Haha you’re feeling threatened,” Max stuck out his tongue. 

Sam laughed, freely, in a way that only Max could make him. He felt the tension ebb away from his shoulders, something that he didn’t even know he had been holding on to.

“Let me look at you,” Sam said, running his hand over Max’s face, and into his tangled curls. His otherwise brown skin was darker, as if he’d spent too much time in the sun, and eyes were just a tad bit sharper. Sam knew the look, there was something brewing in that little head.

“Did they make you work on a farm or something?”

“We made a tractor,” Max said. “Uncle Dean said it was awesome.”

“Uncle Dean’s a mechanic,” Sam pointed out. “He thinks everything with four wheels is awesome. And it was _his_ dumb idea to send you away for the summer camp.”

Max’s brows pulled together. “It wasn’t a dumb idea.”

Sam was rueful that Dean got to see more of Max than he did. 

“A month long summer camp? Who does that?” Sam pulled Max back to him, for the physical reassurance that he really and truly was back. “I’m gonna drag them to court.”

“You’re not the only lawyer I know,” Max said. “I’ll fight you.”

“But do you know a _smarter_ lawyer than me?” Sam counter.

Max huffed.

"Did you, at least, have fun?”

“Sure. I know where the engine goes in a car. And aunt Jo cooked a turkey for me.”

Sam shook his head. A whole turkey? Way to spoil a kid.

Alex, who had been standing by the side, came over to ruffle Max’s hair. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Thanks for picking him up, Alex,” Sam said, sincerely. “I hate to make you work on Sundays.”

“Eh, that’s okay,” she brushed it off. “Didn’t want to say it to his face, but he isn’t half that bad.”

Max made a face at her, which she mirrored.

“Seriously, I don’t mind.”

“Hey,” Sam called, as she turned to leave “Will you thank your mom for me… for last night?”

She frowned then shrugged. “Sure thing!”

After she was gone, Sam turned on Max, a former irritation returning. “Hey, why did you randomly stop calling me? You promised you would call every night.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Chill. Some kid drove over the phone with his zoom car. It’s a jigsaw puzzle now.” 

Sam was right to have been apprehensive about this camp, but Dean had insisted- not only because he thought auto-mechanics was good, if not too advanced for a kid- but also because Dean thought Max needed some distance.

“Think about it,” Dean had said, “He’s just holed up with you all the time. A change would do him good.” Dean might have had the ulterior motive of getting to whisk Max away to his own home for the weekends, since the camp was in Kansas. However, Sam wouldn’t have dared to part from him, if he didn’t know that his elder brother would be there always to keep an eye.

But if kids were wildly driving around on zoom cars, maybe it was a miracle that Max was back in one piece. Sam shuddered and tightened his arm around his son. Anxiety was a perpetual feature of parenthood.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” There it was… whatever Max had been chewing over in his head. Sam knew if he didn’t push, Max would come out with it on his own.

“Shoot.”

“You know that picture you keep in your room?”

“The one of us? On the bedside table?” 

Max shook his head. “The other one. The one you keep in the drawer. Who’s that?”

Sam stiffened, suddenly wary. He answered as carefully as he could, “You _know_ who that is.”

Sam had never hidden anything from Max, he knew as much as a child his age could understand. He had seen Max sneak into his room sometimes to open the drawer and steal a look at Y/N’s picture. Sam didn’t know what Max made of it and had never asked, but he had never shied away from Max’s questions. Why was he asking about Y/N now? 

“I saw her picture in one of Aunt Jo’s books,” Max said. 

“You didn’t know they were sisters?” Sam asked, sceptic.

Max shrugged.

“Why did she leave?” Max’s voice was low, there was an undercurrent of confusion, as if he couldn’t fathom what could make anyone leave. Sam’s heart broke as he guessed the reason behind the question.

Sam let Max out of his hold so that Max could sit next to him on the steps, however, he still kept his arm around his kid.

“Sometimes, the grief is too much to trust that someone else could understand it, could fix it,” Sam said. “Guess, she didn’t trust me enough.” That was all he could do, right? Guess.

“I don’t understand,” Max frowned. “ _You_ can fix _everything._” 

Sam sighed. He wasn’t the praying sort anymore, still, everyday he thanked the universe for keeping Max’s faith in him intact. Sam knew that he would have turned into a whole other person if it hadn’t been for this little boy. He was the reason Sam could wake up in the morning and face himself in the mirror.

“As long as you think that, kiddo,” Sam said. “You wanna go inside?”

“Naw, let’s just sit here for a bit.”

Sam squeezed him against his body, eyes on the setting sun before them. He could see why Max wanted to hang around a little longer- the sky was a beautiful medley of orange, purple and everything in between. Something was still brewing in Max’s head, Sam could almost feel the gears turning at full speed, but he knew better than to ask. After all, wasn’t he himself also preoccupied? Not being around Y/N had seemed to have permanently ruptured his chest. He didn’t think he had really even breathed a lung full of air in the past six and a half years; not until he had seen her truly smile a few days ago. All these years had been a half life.

But being away from Max? It felt like a part of him had physically detached itself and driven off to a stupid mechanics camp in the middle of nowhere. Y/N had been a breath of fresh air in his life all those years ago, a miracle delivered straight from the heavens. But Max? Max had become Sam’s reason to want to breathe. 

“Don’t go away to dumb places for so long,” Sam said quietly. 

Small hands wrapped themselves around Sam’s middle, a contented sigh sounded besides him. “Yeah, yeah… I missed you, too.”


	21. Chapter 21

Monday was more than just the first awful day of the week for you. This time, it felt like you were stepping from the portal of one world into another. The weekend had been so adventurous that Professor Mcleod’s first lecture was too mundane in comparison. Your heart had been pounding at the thought of facing Sam first thing in the morning, while you tried to convince yourself that he would hold his promise of being friends. Thursday night seemed like ages ago when you had helped him with James’s case. In reality it had only been four days.

Your feet were tapping against the linoleum, waiting for Sam, when Professor Mcleod announced that he had swapped his lecture with Professor Winchester, who had an early call at the court. He would take the last two lectures for today to make up for the one he missed on Friday.

Just before lunch, Professor Mills continued with her streak of debates. Today’s topic was about the use of Latin in Legal languages- whether, legal language should be contemporized to match the present day lingo instead of ancient phrases. You didn’t get to pick your side, but that was fine. There was something powerful about using the Latin terms that had lived years. The other team, arguing the redundancy of Latin won the point this time. Rebecca was smug about it.

“Even amongst us who practice,” Professor Mills said, “We hold strong opinions on Latin. Me or even Professor Mcleod don’t mind it much. If you asked Professor Whitman, Felton or even Professor Winchester, they sure have words to say against it.”

Did you imagine it or did Professor Mill’s gaze touch you just for a second when she mentioned Sam? Maybe you had imagined it.

While Rebecca gloated about how her favourite professor shared her ideas as the class dismissed for the break, you stepped on to the dais. “Professor, just a minute.” 

Professor Mills turned. You knew she liked you, so you expected her smile. However, her expression was ambivalent.

“Yes?”

“I-I wanted to thank you for suggesting my name in the organising committee for the Induction fair,” you mumbled, unsure now.

“How do you know I suggested your name?”

“Well, the last committee head said that the faculty and alumni nominate the organising committee,” you said. “I thought maybe it was you who recommended me.”

There was something about her face, she almost looked severe. 

“Sam Winchester could have nominated your name,” she said, “Didn’t you think of that?”

“He- he wouldn’t…” You breathed, anxious.

All of a sudden, Professor Mills smiled. “You’re right, he didn’t recommend you. I did.” Then added grudgingly, “But only because he was sure he wouldn’t need to… that someone would get your name there before he could.”

“Good luck, Y/N,” she said, eyes softer now. “With the organising that it.”

Dazed and thoroughly confused about the interaction, you walked to the cafeteria. 

Madison’s face brightened at the sight of you. “Look, I still got your earrings.”

“They look so pretty on you,” you said, truthfully. 

“It was such a fun night!” Lacey gushed. “Where did you disappear? We went to meet professor Winchester and Becca here thinks he might have flirted with her.”

Madison rolled her eyes but didn’t comment.

“Thinks?” Rebecca snorted. “It _did_ happen. I had to go to the bathroom and he was there. I guess I was so drunk I went through the wrong door, you know!”

Uhhgg! You cringed internally at the gleam in Rebecca’s eyes.

“When was this again?” Madison asked skeptically.

“Around three? I guess? I don’t really remember. It was too dark and I think I got a good feel of him.”

“I think she’s lying,” Lacey whispered in your ear.

You _knew_ she was lying. At three in the morning, Sam was probably cursing your sofa for screwing up his back. 

Instead of commenting, you gazed across the cafeteria, hoping to catch a glimpse of the subject of your conversation. Once or twice in the past month you had seen him here. It was rare enough that you didn’t get your hopes high. Next minute your view was obstructed by all black.

You raised your head to see Meg glaring down at you. She threw a clothing item in your face.

“One of these days you’ll freeze to death and then you’ll learn not to forget this at home.”

You grabbed the innocent looking beige sweater and pulled it on.

“Thanks, Meg.”

“Thanks! _Thanks?_ ” She yelled. “You know how huge the Law school campus is? You had to make me track you down. Because checking your phone is for losers!”

“Oh.” You pulled out your phone to see the screen flashing seven missed calls.

“Meg,” you pouted, “I’m sorry. I’ve been a bit distracted.”

“Clearly!” She huffed.

Behind her, the girls had all dropped the conversation and were staring at the two of you, expressions ranging from fear to curiosity. Even Meredith was paying attention.

“You know, Y/N,” Meg said with a little smirk, “You’re not going to always have guys throwing their expensive coats in your direction. Just saying.”

Blood rushed to your face. That was a low blow.

“Well, you’re not going to always have people believe when you say you wanted to visit the aquarium,” you retorted.

Meg dropped all her swagger at once. “Shit! Did anyone ask?”

“Pam did. But I told her you wanted to see if you could smuggle seafood. Just have Cas make up a better excuse next time. I can’t cover for both of you convincingly.”

She laughed. “You’re a life-saver.”

“So are you,” you grinned, tugging at the sweater to enunciate your point. 

Aware of the company, you made the introductions, “Guys, this is my roommate, Meg Masters. She’s majoring in Quantum Physics up in the north building. Meg, this is Madison, Lacey, Meredith and Rebecca.”

Madison and Lacey smiled while Meredith just sized Meg up, seemingly impressed. Rebecca’s eyes narrowed. 

Meg waved in the general direction, stuck her tongue out at you and left.

Lacey whistled. “You live with her? She’s _scary.”_

“I think she’s hot,” Meredith commented and Madison giggled.

“What did she mean when she said that thing about expensive coats?” Rebecca interjected. “Who’s handing coats to you?”

It wasn’t any of her business. Thankfully the clock in the cafeteria chimed, giving you a reason to get out of the conversation.

When Sam walked into the class, he had the biggest grin on his face. Your heart lurched at the sight. He was dressed in a sharp light grey suit, not a hair out of place and his frameless glasses were back on. After a weekend of seeing him in plaid and without his reading glasses, you felt a spasm of panic, an irrational fear that maybe you imagined the lovely afternoon after all, imagined the teasing of the baristas or his words…

_“I’m just so incredibly proud of you, Y/N…”_

Sam’s eyes scanned the crowd and for the barest hint of a second touched on you, before he averted his gaze. You were used to the motion by now. However, instead of looking away because he didn’t want to see you, today he looked away… because he wanted to. 

“Thanks, Paul,” he smiled at the TA, who popped both his thumbs up and then exited to the very back.

Then, he did something that made your jaw drop. Sam unbuttoned his coat, removed it and placed it on the back of his chair. In the same vein, he also undid his cuffs and rolled up his sleeves.

“Sorry, it’s a hot day,” he said apologetically. “It’s like a hundred and ten degrees outside and the AC isn’t cutting it.”

So tactless, you thought to yourself. When you were married, you always noticed all the glances that Sam got, on the streets, in restaurants and he never did. Even now, after God knows how many years of being around young women, he was just as clueless. You did not envy the girls in the class… or even some of the guys. 

What you were pissed about, still, was how you didn’t remember that one night when you had a chance to be close to him. It was petty and shallow, but you felt what you felt.

“Right, first things first,” Sam said, leaning against the table. “I’m sorry for ditching class on Friday. Things came up that couldn’t be helped. Secondly, congratulations to those of you who made it to the organising committee. They usually retain the same committee for the mock juries-”

“Professor!” Rebecca cut in, practically bouncing in her seat. “We had an interesting discussion with Professor Mills earlier today. She mentioned how you are strongly opposed to the use of Latin in legal language.”

“She said that?” Sam asked, perplexed. “I do have an opinion, but it can hardly be termed as strong and only pertains to part legality.”

“I don’t understand,” she stressed.

“Well, Latin comes from traditions,” Sam said. “I don’t claim to be a history expert by any means, but the law system that is followed in the majority of the western hemisphere does find its roots in Greece and Rome. I believe that _does_ deserve a nod. However, I’ve practiced long enough to see attorneys make a complete joke of themselves because of it.” He paused, a small smile on his lips. “What I’m saying is don’t go randomly spewing Latin, just because you know it. That’s not how people normally talk, and that’s not how you convince clients. We learn it only for the purpose of drafting paperwork and talking to the judge or jury.”

“But doctors use Latin and it makes our job so much easier when instead of explaining the whole situation we can simply call it by the Latin idiom,” piped in Seth. He’d been part of your side of the debate and you had to suppress your smile at his attempt to rehash the argument. Apparently he wasn’t over the defeat.

“I’m not denying the importance,” Sam raised his hands in a placating gesture. “I just think it boils down to how much ego we are willing to stroke for the sake of our profession.”

Seth had a very obvious question mark imprinted on his face,

“Wouldn’t you agree that we, as a profession, are a little ill-judged, Mr. Kennley?”

The whole class laughed. There were enough Lawyer jokes to go around for millennia.

“Alright,” Sam said, rolling the sleeves of his white shirt further. “Let me ask you something, and I’m not trying to take over from Mr. Mckinnon for Moral ethics. Just humour me here- out of sympathy or empathy, which one is greater?”

“What’s even the difference?” a voice from the first row whispered. Unfortunately for him, Sam heard it. He smirked at the guy.

“The difference, my friend, decides whether you’ll be a good lawyer.” He looked up at the rest of the class. “Anyone wants to take a hit?”

Unsurprisingly, no one did. It wasn’t about being wrong. It was about being wrong in front of Sam, especially on the matter of ethics. There was something about him that made people immediately respect him and then want to protect their impression.

“Come on? No one?” He challenged. 

Timidly, Madison raised her hand.

“Yes, Miss. Maxwell?”

“I would say, sympathy,” she put forth hesitantly. “If you don’t feel sympathetic for someone’s cause, you can’t very well do anything about it, right?”

Sam titled his head to one side. “Hmmm…” he mused, “Sure, sympathy is very crucial. But the thing about sympathy is that it is conditional to intentions, and not necessitated by them. Today you could sympathize with their cause, but that doesn’t mean you’re committing to it. If you change your intentions tomorrow, sympathy would mean very little.”

“Oh!” Madison looked down, disheartened at having disappointed Sam. You felt for her.

“I like how you think, Miss Maxwell,” Sam said. “There’s really no right or wrong answer, to be honest, It’s a matter of perspective. I was only providing you with a counterargument.”

Madison gave him a small smile.

“Anyone else would like to take a crack?”

No one wanted to have a repeat.

Slowly, you raised your hand. Sam’s gaze swept through the class one last time and settled on your hand.

“Yes, Ms. Y/L/N?” His face was mostly devoid of expression, only the small raise of his eyebrow hinted at some amusal behind it.

“To my knowledge, sympathy means that I _see_ your pain and I feel _bad_ about it,” you said, staring right at him. “And empathy means I _feel_ your pain, I am capable of understanding the exact emotion that you are experiencing.”

“So you mean to say you think empathy is greater than sympathy?” He cocked the eyebrow further.

You shook your head. “No, contrary to popular opinion, I actually agree with Miss Maxwell. Just because I know exactly how a person is feeling, doesn’t mean I am capable of feeling bad for them. And if I can’t feel bad for them, how can I fight for their cause?”

Sam pushed his glasses up the bridge of his long nose. “That just brings us back to the argument of changeable intentions.”

“That’s because you’re looking at it from a binary angle,” you insisted. “You’re only considering two parameters, like two sides of a coin. An either-or situation. What if there’s something greater than sympathy or empathy? What if I have a third option?”

In the pin drop silence, he asked, “Do you?”

“Compassion.” Your voice was loud and clear. “It means I may not truly understand the extent of your pain, but I’m willing to take action to help you. That I may not have lived through what you have, not exactly, anyway, but I still have enough strength of character and conviction to commit to your cause irrevocably. Compassion doesn’t only pertain to emotions, it’s a promise of action.” _You taught me that, Sam. You’ve shown compassion to everyone, to me. Always. Even when I didn’t deserve it._

He bowed his head for just a minute so no one could see his expression, when he looked up, there was satisfaction on his face, as if he’d never expected a lesser answer from you, but also a shadow of pain.

“Well, damn!” Someone whispered from behind you. “You go, girl!”

One side of Sam’s lips quirked up, “I suppose, Ms. Y/L/N, you just won the argument.”

There were hoots from the back and few claps.

“Alright, alright,” Sam raised his hand, grinning. “I can see you guys had already picked sides. Though this brings us back to our original topic: Why Latin? Because as a profession, we need to acquire a sense of compassion for the layman, who quite sensibly, doesn’t spend all their free time mugging up Latin. Isn’t that right, Ms. Y/L/N?”

Oh, boy, that look was fifty shades of trouble. You gulped, nodded and quickly started flipping through your books.

“Okay, let’s start with our super interesting topic for today- Disputes over intellectual property rights. And no snoring in the back.”

From the row ahead of you Brad gave you a superior smirk. “Nice one putting him down like that.”

You didn’t pay any attention to Brad, trying to concentrate on the extremely dry topic that Sam was teaching today and trying to understand the meaning behind his look. After the class, you ran into Sam in the corridor in what was becoming typical Y/N style. Books on the floor and stationary scattered.

“Shit!” Sam swore, then realised he was in front of a student and shouldn’t be swearing, and then again realised it was just you and relaxed .

“Why do I keep knocking you down?” He asked, instinctively ducking down to retrieve your books, lending you a hand.

“No, you keep picking me up.” You took your books back from him.

He gave you a long-suffering side glance at the comment but let it pass. “Headed to the library?”

“Yeah, I got the night shift today.”

“Let me walk you there,” he said leading the way. “You were being very smart in class today.”

“Oh c’mon, I’m always smart,” you quipped. Sam only tipped his head in your direction in agreement.

At the door you asked him, expectantly, “Not coming in today?”

“No, I have to hurry back home,” he said. “See you soon?”

“First thing tomorrow morning,” you laughed.

“In class,” Sam groaned. He touched your arm lightly just like the other day. 

“Soon.” With that he turned towards the quad. 

You sat at your desk, thinking about how it was _so easy_ to be with Sam, to lose track of the present and lose track of the past. Right now both of those were dangerous things. But, God, it was so _easy_.

* * *

Most of the next few days passed without much incidence. You didn’t see Sam as much as you had hoped to. He didn’t miss another class, but didn’t turn up at the library either. Hadn’t Molly said he’d been spending most of his free time holed up in the library? What had changed since? Was it you being a permanent fixture?

No, that couldn’t be it. Apart from that one detail, Sam hadn’t shown any sign that he didn’t want to be around you. In fact, he’d often wait outside the class and walk to the library or till the parking lot, where his car was parked. It would be innocent enough for a student and faculty to discuss assignments in public, right?

You knew his schedule by now. Monday to Wednesday classes in the morning and afternoon through evening at Acton Gris. Rest of the days, morning at work or court, followed by afternoon lectures… and he _tried_ to take weekends off. 

You tried to make sense of his choices. Surely after all these years of practicing, he made enough money to sustain. Why did he still teach? It had been a running joke between you- how he would make an amazing professor. After all, a lot of what you knew was taught by him. When you had been together, Sam would willingly sacrifice making out time to answer your silly questions about law, methodically teach you tricks and tips of getting through college. How to frame legal language, how to approach hypos. He had patiently read to you from textbooks, and let you argue and express your views. You might have lost hope in life since, but you had never lost the confidence he’d given you. Wasn’t that why when the whole class hesitated to answer him, you could do it without a second thought? Put your point forth without the hesitation of a rebuttal?

Every other moment you second guessed his feelings for you, but not for a second you doubted his ethics as a teacher. Not even when Jody had suggested that Sam put in your name for the committee. He wouldn’t do you the disservice by being partial.

Sam had said he was proud of you. It would be nothing in comparison to the pride you felt for him. Junior partner at such a young age and a professor in one of the world’s best Law schools? If, only if you could hold him and tell him how proud you were. More than just for Sam, you felt the fiercest of joy for Dean. All his years of hard work and dedication, all of his dreams for his nerdy brother had come to fruition. You could only imagine his joy each day, knowing that his brother was so successful in life. A gripping sensation tugged at your stomach at the thought of Dean. With a jolt you realised it was homesickness, enough to leave you heaving. Dean and Jo… your family.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

Molly was looking down at you with concerned eyes. “You look like you’re in pain.”

You schooled your expression immediately. “No, nothing like that.” Molly didn’t look convinced so you rushed to change the topic. “What’re you doing here? I’m covering the evening shift.”

“You’re free of the library duties for the rest of the week and the weekend,” she said. “A TA told me that you’re heading the Induction committee. That’s already a lot of work.”

“I can work from here,” you told her, turning your laptop. “See, it’s the schedule.”

“I’ll make this as easy for you as I can. Go away now.”

She was incredible. “Thanks, Molly. You’re far too kind.”

“Only to those who are kinder,” she said with a smile. “Go home. I know you have a meeting first thing tomorrow to check all the arrangements. There’s just two days left.”

Grateful and thanking your lucky stars that you had such a wonderful boss, you grabbed your stuff from the Librarian’s room. Few times you had slept over and gone directly to class from here, so there were clothes which were screaming for laundry. Stuffing them into your overfull satchel, you headed to the front desk to find Molly deep in conversation with a man.

He had amazing blond hair- long and silky- the sort that one only saw in shampoo commercials. His eyes danced with mirth and his grin full of mischief. He was dressed like a lawyer, and was leaning over the desk in a flirty fashion. A giggle sounded from Molly who was blushing. That was very unlike her.

You didn’t want to interrupt whatever was going but you had to let Molly know you were leaving. Unsure, you paused behind them. The man noticed you standing there awkwardly.

He straightened up immediately. Taking a note of his distraction, Molly turned around.

“Oh, Y/N,” she called out. “Come here. There’s someone I want you to meet.”

Hesitantly, you crossed over to her side. All the mirth had disappeared from the man’s eyes as he regarded you shrewdly. 

“Y/N, this is Chase Lincoln. He’s an associate at Acton Griswold. Works with Sam Winchester.”

Oh, so _this_ was Chase.

Chase frowned slightly. “Hi, Y/N,” he reached out and you shook his hand firmly. “How’re you doing?.”

“I’m doing very well. Thank you, Mr. Lincoln.”

“Please call me Chase,” he winked as if it was a habit. Soon, though, the frown returned. “Have we met before, Y/N?”

“I don’t think so,” you said tentatively.

Molly rolled his eyes. “Don’t flirt with her!”

“No,” he said, still scrutinising. “You really look familiar. I swear I’ve seen you somewhere.”

“She’s in the committee,” Molly suggested. “Maybe you saw her resume.”

“Maybe,” he said, doubtfully. “Anyway, I’ll see you around, Y/N!” He turned to Molly and gave her a smirk. “You made my day there, Mols.”

“Oh, hush,” she admonished and his clear laughter rang from outside.

She sighed dreamily after him. “Sam Winchester and Chase Lincoln. They sure know how to pair em’ up at Acton Griswold. Bet the jury is too busy ogling to get shit done.”

“Mhmm…” 

* * *

In the hindsight, if Molly hadn’t given you the rest of the day off, you would never have managed to compile the list of speakers or finished chalking out the time table for the activities. After making a hundred calls to confirm that all volunteers knew their schedules for the three days of the Induction fair, you decided to go out for a walk. It was unlikely that anyone would be home- save for Kevin, who would still be working- so you didn’t knock on anyone’s door and headed down the street.

There was barely any crowd on the streets as well. You made a quick detour to the bakery and got yourself a brownie. After all that hard work, you deserved some self love. On your way back, your eyes flitted to the playground on the opposite side of the road and your thoughts went to that little boy from the other day. You hoped he was doing well and those other kids weren’t bullying him anymore. Of all the things, he had offered you his ice-cream that day.

Instead of going up, you sat on the fountain’s parapet in the meadow, and started on the chocolate-walnut brownie. It tasted like sin.

Maybe it was because you’d been just thinking about him, but the soft brown curls immediately caught your attention against the old grey of the compound wall.

Smiling, you called, “You know, the brownie is wonderful. And it’s too much for me to finish all by myself.”

There was no one else here, and the boy realised it soon enough. He poked his head from beyond the compound wall, so you could see his full face now. He looked abashed at being caught.

“It’s Max, isn’t it?”

He nodded.

“C’mere then, Max,” you beckoned. “I was serious when I said I can’t finish this by myself.”

Hesitantly Max strode forward, assessing his environment and came to a stop next to you. 

“Here,” you offered him the brownie, “Have some.”

Max surprised you by shaking his head. “I don’t like brownies.”

You frowned. What had he been looking at then?

“So what _do_ you like?” You asked.

He thought for a moment. “I like pie. And I like cookies.”

At the mention of pie, your thoughts jumped to Dean. How he would moan when he tasted your pies.

“Where’s Alex?”

Max snickered. “She passed out on the sofa while watching TV.”

“And you sneaked out?” You hadn’t intended to sound admonishing. His expression fell ever so slightly at the shift in your tone. 

Feeling guilty, you moderated your voice. “You’ll just get into a lot of trouble with her and your dad if they find out. Won’t you?”

Max didn’t reply. Maybe you had really upset him.

You put the brownie aside and knelt in front of Max, who was decidedly staring at the ground. “You said you don’t like brownies. How about we get you some cookies then?”

He looked up, startled, not expecting you to change the topic. “Cookies?”

“Yeah, I got some in my apartment upstairs. Do you want to grab a few?”

Again, like the first time, you knew for sure that he would deny. No child could be this trusting with a stranger. But surprising you yet again, Max nodded. 

Caught off guard, you took his hand and guided him to the lift. Max’s eyes scanned his surroundings with wonder- the wrought iron grill of the lift with it’s pretty floral design, the dark wallpaper of the halls, everything. And when he thought you were looking elsewhere, his eyes kept coming back to you.

Once inside, you led him to the sofa. “Have a seat, Max. I’ll be right back.”

His gaze followed you as you washed your hands in the kitchen sink and pulled the tray out from the oven, thanking your lucky stars that you had somehow found the time to push a batch inside before sitting with the listing.

“You like chocolate chip cookies?” You asked, offering him directly from the tray.

Max picked one and started nibbling. His expression brightened after a few chews. Max took a large bit next.

“Any good?”

He nodded vigorously. Next minute he was reaching out for another.

“Take as many as you want.”

You observed Max more closely now, noting just how rich the colour of his eyes was. There were other little things, pale lines against his arms, marks against the side of his temple, above his right eyebrow. Faint scars. There was one right over his upper lip as well- a cut.

Warily, you asked him. “Hey, Max, what does your dad do?”

He gulped, looking at you with wide eyes. “He’s a lawyer.”

“Really?” That was a coincidence. “Where does he work?”

“In the city,” he said, showing complete disinterest in your question, going at the cookies with a renewed ferocity.

So he was a lawyer’s kid. It was probable- the locality was full of working professionals apart from students and faculty accoms. You wanted to ask him more about his father, concerned about his well being. Then you remembered Max’s conversation with his babysitter. She had been scared about losing him and he’d assured her very confidently that his father wouldn’t yell. So much for jumping to conclusions. Maybe Max just fell down a lot. Or maybe it was the bullies. That brought a whole new round of concerns.

“Hey, how about I bake you a pie next time? Would you like that?”

He spoke through a mouth full, brow furrowed. “You would do that?”

“Of course.” You were surprised that you meant it. You really did want to bake a pie for this little boy. There was something very pure about his joy. It was absolutely untainted of any sort of greed. To prove your point, he pushed the tray towards you.

“Please. I’m the only one eating,” he said. “Thank you so much.”

“No, no, you go on.” For a kid so young, he was too polite and he spoke like adults. 

After he was done, you packed the rest of the cookies in a paper bag. “Come, I’ll take you home.”

He shook his head, “I can go by myself.”

“I know you can, but I still need to ask for your dad’s permission, so he lets me bake you a pie. We don’t want him to call the police on me now, do we?”

That spooked look was back on his face, which allthemore cemented your determination. You had to see where this kid lives, meet his dad if you could. 

Max was quiet as you locked your door and took the lift. In the ground floor foyer, you ran into Cas. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Cas greeted. Max backed away at the sight of Cas. “And who do we have here?”

“This is my friend Max,” you said, smiling. “Max, this is Castiel.”

Cas knelt down to Max’s level. “Hi, Max, it’s nice to meet you.”

Max scowled, not making any move towards Cas. _That_ was how a kid was supposed to react to strangers, with utter distrust, and not follow them blindly into apartments. Max clearly knew how to be wary and yet he waived it all for you.

“I’m just taking him home,” you told Cas. “Go straight up. Meg left a message for you on our table.”

“Okay,” Cas waved. You noticed he was frowning at Max.

Max’s house was actually pretty close- two streets down, barely five minutes away. It was a quite modern, two story structure, painted in light grey, with the structural members jutting out. The front lawn was lively and fitted with children’s play equipment and a big netted trampoline. You noticed that all the houses on the street were very classic- they had the same picket fences, almost same colors and neatly trimmed front lawns. But Max’s home dared to defy all the conventions. The plants were growing directly out of the ground instead of pots. The back wall was covered in vines and most of the front facade had beautiful bay windows that must let in a lot of light. Something about the slight unkemptness of the house’s surrounding was very cheerful and welcoming. 

“We planted those wisteria bushes last year,” Max pointed out. “Dad tried to trim them, but it made us sad, so we let it grow out.”

It was beautiful, and unlike the other wisterias in the area, it was overgrown. Max’s dad was smart though, he had kept it away from the walls of the house. 

“I think it’s lovely.” It was.

You rang the doorbell. Within seconds, Alex opened the door. She looked harried. “Max? What the hell?!”

“Language!” Max poked his tongue.

“To hell with the language.” Alex threw her hands around him. “You dumbass! Where did you run off to? I yelled and yelled in the street. I had to call your dad.”

“Aw, Al!” Max complained, breaking off. “Why’d you have to do that? He must be out of his mind.”

“As he should be, you idiot. He’s on his way.”

“I’m sorry,” you cut in, feeling obligated on Max’s behalf. “He came to see me.”

Alex glared down at Max, in what was clearly a promise of beration once you were out of sight.

“I don’t think I got the chance to introduce myself,” you offered your hand. “I’m Y/N. I live in that building with the fountain. I’m a student at the law school.”

“Law school?” Alex relaxed visibly. “My mom’s a professor there. I’m Alex Mills.”

“Oh, you’re professor Mills daughter,” you smiled. “I’ve met Claire.”

“You’ve met Claire?”

“Yeah. Claire’s boyfriend lives next door to me.”

“Claire has a boyfriend?”

Shit. You bit your lip and quickly changed the topic. “Your mom’s my favourite teacher.” That was almost true.

Alex exchanged a look of smugness with Max, who made a face at her. You didn’t quite understand it.

“Please, come in,” Alex offered, friendly now. 

“Oh, no! I’ve got to get back home.” You handed her the paper bag. “Here are some cookies that I baked. I’ve invited Max to my house on Monday for some pie. My name and address are on the top. Please let his dad know? I can come pick him up in the afternoon.”

“That won’t be necessary,” Alex said. “I’ll drop him off around 4?”

“That would be lovely. His dad won’t mind?”

Alex smiled. “Oh no, I don’t think so.”

You looked at Max. “You’ll take care of yourself, won’t you?”

“Yep.”

“See you on Monday, bud,” you waved at him. 

“Soon,” he called in his sweet, quiet voice.

It was only after you were back on your sofa that you realised why Max’s ‘soon’ felt so reassuring. Only one other person said goodbye like that. Strange how everything in the world was starting to remind you of Sam.


	22. Chapter 22

“Jesus, kid! Don’t you ever pull that one on me again, okay?”

Max was trying to escape his embrace, but Sam didn’t budge. His heart was still beating out a disjointed rhythm. 

“I didn’t do anything!” Max protested.

Alex was quick to interject. “You ran out on me.” 

Max turned in the circle of his arms glaring at Alex. “Only because you fell asleep.”

Alex’s face got all red and she sneaked a nervous glance at Sam.

“She’s got school in the morning,” Sam told Max. “She was tired. That doesn’t mean you can run out on her.”

“This isn’t the first time either,” Alex put in, emboldened by Sam’s support. “He ran to her on Sunday as well.”

“What’s this, Max?” Sam didn’t want to make his voice stern, but the fear wasn’t helping. Alex had called him towards the end of his meeting to tell him she couldn’t find Max. Sam’s heart had dropped through the ground at the mere thought. By the time he could ask Chase to pull out his car- Sam’s was still parked in the campus- a second call from Alex had already informed him that Max was back and okay. But Sam couldn’t stay put. He’d made Chase drive him back anyway.

“She’s my friend.” Max muttered.

“You’ve only met her twice!” Alex accused.

Max threw Alex a betrayed look, mumbling to himself.

Sam rubbed his face with his hand. “What’s happening?”

Alex started to say something, but Max interjected. “I want to tell him!”

“Alright, go on.”

Max told him about a new friend he’d made in one of the buildings along the playground, and that he was going to see her on Monday again.

Sam shot a look at Alex to confirm and she nodded encouragingly. Falling asleep on the watch might have been a one time thing, otherwise Alex was both smart and thorough. She wouldn’t have agreed to anything that wasn’t safe for Max.

“I can go, right?”

“Only if you promise to never go out by yourself.”

Max made an excited sound. “Yes!”

“Okay, enough of this moping,” Chase announced. He had been standing uncharacteristically quiet, watching the drama unfold. “Alex gets to sleep, Max gets his date and Sam gets to chill. What does Chase get?”

Sam turned to him. “What do you want?”

“Food. I want food.”

Alex waved to Max, who didn’t acknowledge it. He was still mad about ratting him out. “Bye, Sam. Bye, Mr. Lincoln.”

Sam nodded, and Chase waved at her cheerfully.

Sam let go of Max, not really looking him in the eyes, lest he should sense just how freaked out Sam was. That’s not what kids should see in their parents- the fear of being incompetant. Sam had learned as much from Dean. His older brother had been absolutely confident in every decision he’d made for Sam. It was only in the later years that Sam realised how freaked out Dean must have been attempting to raise Sam, even with Bobby and Karen’s help. They were all always second guessing themselves. 

The next hour was spent on a call with Stacey. She debriefed Sam about the end of the meeting, promising to forward the transcripts after she was done with editing them. He was lucky to have found someone as efficient as her. She was a blessing. Sam appreciated that her first words were of concern for Max. Stacey had designed Sam’s schedule in such a foolproof manner that Max was never neglected. He couldn’t have been more grateful. To think that they had started their work relationship disliking each other.

Sam took his time in the shower, letting the hot water wash away some of his anxiety. Just the very thought of losing Max was enough to decapitate him. Later, as he diced the bell-peppers, his eyes kept going to the sofa where Max was playing connect four with Chase, who was sucking bigtime. It was something they did at least once a week. Right now, Chase was going on at length about how awesome the cookies were, that he was stealing from a jar. Sam didn’t remember buying any cookies at all.

A sting in his finger made him hiss. Looking down, he saw blood spreading into the bell-pepper pieces and the surface of the chopping board.

The next minute small hands were taking his finger, blowing on the cut and guiding him towards the sink.

“You never pay attention!” Max admonished.

“What do you care?” Sam muttered, washing his finger under the steady stream. The cut wasn’t too deep. “It’s not like you don’t love worrying me.”

Max huffed. “You’re being melodramatic.”

“No, I’m not. Seriously, Max, do you want me to stop going to work? How am I supposed to concentrate on anything if you’re going to be a flight risk?”

“I wasn’t running away from home, okay? I just went to see my friend.”

Sam knew he was overreacting but what else was there to do? Alex had sounded so frantic on the phone.

“Who’s this girl anyway?” Sam eyed his son, turning off the tap. “Is it Lucy from school?”

“Ewww nooooo!” Max cringed, making a face. “I don’t like Lucy!”

“Of course you don’t,” Sam grinned. He added more seriously, “Don’t push Alex, okay? She might decide to not babysit you anymore.”

“It’s your fault really,” Max shrugged. Chase who had gone to retrieve the first aid box- it was ridiculous he even knew where that was in the house- handed Sam a bandaid. 

Sam gave Max an incredulous look. “How is any of this my fault?”

“If you got me a mom, we wouldn’t need a babysitter!”

Sam barely even had the time to pick his jaw up when Chase started howling with laughter. He raised his hand and Max high-fived him.

“Wha- what?” He spluttered. “Where’s this coming from?”

“I told you, you had this coming, Samuel,” Chase chuckled, superior. “Even your boy seems to be scoring more dates here. And look at the little daredevil sneaking out to get em. What’re you waiting for? Divine intervention?” He lowered his voice just for Sam’s ears. “Even Steve from HR gets laid more than you. And he smells like Kleenex!”

Sam glared at his friend. “That’s it. Get out of my house! I’m not responsible for feeding _you.”_

“Now, now,” Chase placated, putting his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders from behind and giving them a squeeze. “Look at these muscles. Such a waste to not have beautiful arms draped around them.”

“Well, there’s always you!”

Chase huffed, drawing back. “You don’t pay me any attention.”

Max giggled.

Sam turned to his son. “Max, having a mom doesn’t mean you won’t have a babysitter. Working mothers are a thing!”

“He’ll, at least, have quality food,” Chase put in. “All you feed him is vegetables.”

“You know what? I’m done with the both of you. Go back to that game you were playing.”

“No,” Chase shook his head. “This is more fun. Why aren’t you asking Jess out?”

“You know why.” Sam wasn’t as patient this time as he had been the last ten times, since Chase had been badgering him every damn minute. “Go wash your hands, Max. And help Uncle Chase set up the table.”

Max knew he was being dismissed, so he made a whole show of slowly dragging himself from the kitchen counter and heading upstairs at the speed of a snail. Once he was surely out of earshot, Sam hissed at his friend. “Drop it, Chase! You know it’s not going to happen. Besides, the last time was embarrassing enough. I don’t know how to face her.”

Chase rolled his eyes. “She’s a grown ass woman and super hot. You’re lucky she’s into you,” He paused, the sly grin dancing in his eyes. “That was like three or four years ago. She must be long past it.”

“I sure hope so.”

“I don’t know how else to convince you,” Chase sighed, dropping all the teasing at once. “Jess is successful, beautiful and so damn smart. If a girl like that can’t move you, I don’t know what else to do for you.”

“You can always give up.”

“No chance.” Chase ran his fingers through his hair. “I just keep trying to understand what’s holding you back.”

It was Sam’s turn to sigh. “I’m married.”

“No, you’re not!” Chase argued, with more emotion than Sam had expected, enough to make him face his friend. “This isn’t marriage, Sam. This is you holding on to something dead with both your hands. Let go before your hands start decaying.”

“Don’t say that.” The pain in his own voice depressed Sam. 

Chase grimaced. “What would I not give to see this girl! Who is she? Some supermodel? Is she gilded out of diamonds or something?”

It was no point going in circles with Chase over this. Sam knew from years of experience that he wouldn’t give up. 

“What was her name again?”

“It’s-” Sam’s gaze shifted to the base of the staircase and found Max standing there, face blank. “We’ll talk later,” Sam whispered, wondering how much Max had heard.

The dinner was a quiet affair. Sam knew it wasn’t so because Chase and Max were appreciating the sensory overload of how amazing his stir fry was. Chase was sulking and Max was lost in thought. After Chase had left for the night, Sam set to cleaning the kitchen. Max came to sit by him on the island counter, picking out a cookie from the jar Chase had abandoned. 

“How was your day?” Max asked and despite himself Sam chuckled. There was something so odd about the question coming out of a six and a half year old.

“T’was alright,” Sam told him. Most of it had been very boring, except for the evening scare and the morning lecture in which he was mere feet away from Y/N, every cell in his body hyper aware of the fact that she was there. It was pathetic and Sam knew it. “I do have a hearing tomorrow. I think we’ll win this one.”

“What’s it about?”

“Property fraud. Very interesting.”

Wiping the kitchen top, and hanging the rag on the hook over the sink, Sam came to sit by his son. “How was your day?”

“Very interesting.” Max smiled, but didn’t elaborate. Not wanting to flare up his earlier irritation, Sam didn’t ask him for the details either. Instead, he dipped his hand in the jar and drew out a Choco chip cookie.

“Is it because of me that you don’t go out on dates?”

Max’s voice was small, diminished even and it made Sam draw in a quick breath.

“Max!” He exhaled. “Why would you say that?”

His boy wriggled his fingers. “I don’t know. Uncle Chase is right. You don’t have any fun. I know it’s because you have to spend all your free time with me.”

“You don’t mean that,” Sam stated outright, shaking his head. “I know you don’t because not one second of the time spent with you has been a sacrifice. You’re my son. You’ve got to know that I would do anything for you.”

“Except get me a mom.”

“Mom’s don’t grow on trees or fall out skies, Max.” Sam reasoned trying to keep the exasperation out of his voice. “And don’t you ever say that I don’t have fun in life. We have fun, don’t we? I love that and wouldn’t change it for any girl in the world.”

“Not even for Y/N?”

Sam faltered, aghast. Maybe it was because he was thinking about Y/N so much already, or because Max didn’t usually bring her up, but somewhere inside him there was a nagging feeling that he was missing something here. Max’s question was natural in the context of the conversation… but the very conversation felt out of context. Max knew very well what he meant to Sam, and even if a part of him thought that Sam was sacrificing for his sake- Sam fervently wished that wasn’t the case- the Max he knew would never bring it up _this_ conversationally. 

So he answered with complete conviction. “No. Not even for Y/N.”

“And you get this through your head, Max,” he continued, voice pained despite his efforts. “You and I are already a _complete_ family. I love you with everything that I have. So long as we are together, you’ll make do with just me, won’t you?”

“Mhmm.”

Sam ruffled Max’s hair, and kissed his brow, rankled by his words. Regardless of what Sam had just said, wouldn’t it be nice for Max to have a mom? Even in his imagination the face was perfectly clear, the vision already there. He’d be lying to himself if he said that over the years he hadn’t thought about her holding Max, laughing with him. There was only ever one face that completed Sam’s daydream- Y/N’s. But Sam also knew just how impossible it was. Y/N wouldn’t even think of the aftermath of an accident, imagining her as a motherly figure was simply cruel. So much that the whiplash of it hit Sam’s conscience. It was why he hadn’t mentioned Max to her.

Trying to reign in his thoughts he absentmindedly took a bite of the cookie in his hand, chewing as he tried to dislodge the idea of Max and Y/N. _Impossible… too painful_ , his mind screamed.

Abruptly, he stopped.

“Hey, Max? Sam asked slowly, “Where did you get these cookies?” 

“Umm, those girl scouts came over this afternoon,” he said, not meeting Sam’s gaze. “I asked Alex to buy. Is that okay?”

“You sure these are girl scout cookies?”

“Yep.”

Eating the rest of the cookie in one bite, Sam jumped down from the counter and turned to his boy. “Promise me. Promise me you won’t think like that again,” Sam pleaded. “That you’re keeping me from anything. You saved me, kiddo. I would have been barely worth anything without you.”

“Same,” Max quipped. And despite the absolute horror of the situation, and how true both of their words were, Sam found himself snorting. 

“Enough with the black comedy,” he ordered, “Lets go brush your teeth.”

“Yessum.”

Max leapt into Sam’s arms, and he carried his boy out of the kitchen. Sam eyed the jar of cookies one last time before switching off the lights. 

Friday, first day of Induction fair. It was going to be one long day tomorrow.

* * *

“Alright, everybody clear on what they’re supposed to be doing tomorrow?” 

“It’s 11:30 in the night, Y/N,” Seth complained, “We aren’t going to be _any more_ ready.”

“I’m sorry,” you waved apologetically. “You guys should go home, I’ll wrap up the rest. I’m just nervous.”

“It’ll be okay,” Madison came to your side, putting her arm around your shoulders. “Seth’s just kidding. Aren’t you?” She turned on the poor guy who shook his head and you snickered.

“Okay, pack up y’all!” You called out to the people in the background busy with the last checks on the sound system. “We’re going to have a blast tomorrow.”

Cheers went up around you. One by one everyone clapped you on your back, offered smiles and went their way; only Madison, Brad and Rebecca remained. 

“Who are you taking with you to the Saturday night dance?” Brad asked.

Well crap! “A friend of mine,” you answered. You’d have to ask one of the guys if they were free Saturday evening.

“Hmm… Does this friend happen to go to Law school?”

“Nope!”

“We’ll at least have time for one dance,” Brad insisted, leaning next to you as you packed your bag. “Your friend won’t mind, will he?”

“Brad,” you sighed. “I’m clearly not your type.”

He put his hands up. “Hey, I’m not implying anything here, but if that’s what you got out of it…”

You ignored him, walking back towards Maddie. He kept up with you easily. “What about the dance? One dance is well deserved.”

“Okay, fine!” Better to just agree and get it done with. Brad left with a superior smirk and you wondered what was the deal with him.

“Brad’s a great guy,” Rebecca said. “I don’t know what kind of Prince Charming you’re waiting for that you keep turning him down at every opportunity.”

“I’m not waiting for anyone.” It was true. You had found someone who could put Prince Charming to shame and then you had lost him. Now, the most you could hope for was his friendship. The thinly veiled bitterness and longing in Rebecca’s voice when she spoke of Brad led you to believe that her dislike for you wasn’t reasonless after all.

At the quad, you stopped, letting the girls know that you’d be heading towards the library, to relieve Molly from her shift early. It was supposed to be your shift anyway, Molly was doing you a favor by subbing. 

“I’ll come with you,” Madison quipped. She waved a goodbye to Rebecca and the two of you set towards the library, your footsteps echoing in the night. 

Once Molly had left, Madison logged into one of the records PC’s and started working on the case studies for professor Whitman. Meanwhile, you logged into your mail to print out the schedules and itineraries for the speakers tomorrow.

Just as you were printing out the last set, your email pinged, alerting you to an email from Sam. It was ridiculous that your heart should leap out of your chest, especially when it was merely a reply to your assignment. It was past one, and Sam was still up checking coursework. 

Oh, how you wanted to reply back, ask him why he was up this late. But this was an official email ID. It would be wrong to get personal here. Unreasonable as it was, you were miffed that you didn’t have Sam’s phone number. Friends should be able to call each other, right? You could always find it out from the directory, however, you were stubborn about getting it from him.

“Hey, I just heard back from Professor Winchester,” Madison whispered, even though there wasn’t anyone else in the library. “I scored a 21.5!”

“That’s great!” You smiled.

“What about you? Did you hear from him yet?”

“Just. Scored a 23.”

Madison scrunched her nose, “I bet that’s the highest.” She sounded rueful, but you knew she didn’t mean any ill. “You mind if I take a look at your paper?”

“Course not.”

Madison read through your document carefully. “I can see why he rated you this high. This is great work, Y/N! I wonder…”

“What?”

She looked bemused. “In my email, he’s specifically pointed out all the good things and complemented me for my good work. In your reply he’s only pointed out the one flaw that cost you the two marks. He’s not said one good word about the rest.”

Maybe he thought you would understand, or maybe he was just too tired. If not commenting on your essay earned him ten extra minutes of rest, you were very glad that he hadn’t.

You shrugged at Madison. “Maybe he forgot.”

“That’s not done,” she frowned. “You should ask him tomorrow.”

“Sure.”

A glazed look came over Madison’s face. “Remember the first time we were alone here?”

“We’d been trying to research for Mr. Winchester’s first assignment,” you smiled.

“And ended up stalking him instead,” Madison winked. “After I went home that day, I read up more about that sensationalised case of his. Really gruesome, the whole deal. Never pinned him for the type of lawyer to take up a criminal law case, let alone homicides.”

“What’s there to fight for in a criminal homicide?” You wondered. “Isn’t that DA’s job?”

You remembered a little from what you had read with Madison that day, over a month ago. Twin homicides followed by a legal battle over property inheritance. The deceased’s brother vs. the deceased son. There were also connected matters of custodial rights, abuse charges and adoption.

“It was really scandalous, Y/N,” Madison said. “You wouldn’t know because you didn’t live in California. It was all over the papers and news in LA. Ralph Simmons was this bigshot producer, and his on and off girlfriend- both of them shot by some drug pimp. A whole big racket came out with it. I think Mr. Winchester moved out of LA to avoid the fanfare that followed him everywhere afterwards.”

“When was this?” 

“Ummm… about two and half years ago,” Madison said. 

So before he started teaching at Stanford, and before his job at Acton Griswold. 

“Why would he leave a successful firm in LA and move base to SF?” You asked out loud. “That too after a successful stint? It doesn’t make sense.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “Oh, firms must be dying to have him. Even my dad offered. Apart from offering a junior partnership, Acton Gris must have paid him a ton of money. Besides, his working hours are more like a consultants, so he can manage classes. That’s a lot of relaxations- only someone with that sort of fanfare would have been able to negotiate a deal.”

It wasn’t the money. That much you knew. Something else had made Sam uproot his life in LA and move here. 

“Uhg! I really want to work with him, Y/N,” Madison let out. “I really want the summer internship at Acton Gris.” Seeing your expression, she quickly added, “It’s not why you think. I mean sure he’s super hot and all that, but I’ve looked up to him for his ethics, and the way he thinks. He’s just such a great lawyer.”

“Sure is.”

“I know what you’re thinking,” She said in a defeated voice. “Rich girl with a firm to her name, who could get in Acton Gris by recommendation as a favor. What’s the big deal, right?”

“Maddie, I wasn’t thinking that-”

“It’s alright if you do. Everyone does.”

You placed your hand on top of hers. “I don’t care what everyone else thinks. I care about you. The Madison I know is intelligent and hardworking, who deserves whatever she sets her heart to. Law is a lucrative practice. As long as you aren’t screwing over someone else, you should use whatever means you can.”

Madison’s eyes welled up. “I don’t know what I’d do without you, Y/N. Sometimes… sometimes I wonder if I even have any real friends who care about me. Becca… Lace, Mer… they all feel like friendships of convenience than actual substance. You’re the only one I’m sure will be happy to see me succeed in life.”

Your heart reached out for Madison. She was a good person who didn’t deserve to feel this way. Slowly you reached out and put your arms around her. “Maddie,” You breathed in her hair, not knowing what else to say. You had always known she was hurting inside without her having told you. Her relations seemed frivolous to you, but by the looks of it, her family life wasn’t much good either. Deep down she was convinced that her parents, her brothers didn’t love her. What must it be like to live that way?

You’d never been rich in your life except for those short married months, but not for a minute had you questioned the love of any person you called family. How was one supposed to live on without having the assurance of being absolutely loved?

 _The way you’ve lived for the past six and a half years,_ a small voice whispered in your brain. You quelled it immediately.

“Madison,” you said firmly this time. “I love you. And I’ll always support you. To hell with anyone who thinks otherwise.”

She hugged you closer, and you felt her broken breaths against your body. She didn’t want you to see her cry, so you held on till all her tears had dried.

* * *

You probably looked exactly how you felt- sleepless and exhausted. The first half of day one had gone smoothly with all introductions in place. Over two hundred and fifty alumni had RSVP’d for the event and forty two had agreed to speak or participate in panel discussions. You had been told this was one of the biggest turnouts ever. Instead of feeling like you had succeeded, you just felt more scared. Organised activity wasn’t your cup of tea. Right about then you were questioning how you even ended up heading this committee.

Everyone seemed to be asking for you, everyone had some or the other work with you and the tasks were never ending. The first time that you got a minute to sit was towards the end of lunch break. You dropped into the seat at the far end of the auditorium, head in your hands.

“Here!”

You turned your face to see Sam sitting next to you with a bottle of water in his hand. Unlike his usual self, he was dressed in a light knit grey sweater and jeans today. His glasses hung from the V-shaped neckline, revealing just enough for you to see the glint of his chain. You were so exhausted, all you wanted to do was fall against his shoulder and close your eyes for just two seconds. Sighing, you took the bottle from him and drank to your heart’s content.

“Maybe doing the late night shift at the library wasn’t the best idea, huh?”

You frowned. “How do you know?”

“The register,” He said. “I went to the library in the morning to return my book.”

“I thought you were avoiding the library like the plague.” The words slipped out before you could think them through. You hoped the bitter edge in them wasn’t very obvious. 

“I would come if I could, you know?”

“What’s stopping you?” You asked, belligerent, “Too scared to go back home in the dark?”

You knew it was unfair to put him in a spot like this. He had a home, his own bed. Why would he spend his nights at the library just because you worked there? Just because he hadn’t talked to you all that much lately, or given you his phone number, didn’t mean you had the right to be irritated at him. 

“Y/N-” he sighed, and before he could add on to that, he was interrupted. 

“There you are!” 

Chase Lincoln put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere.”

You straightened your expression under the pretense of drinking more water, and handed the bottle back to Sam.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester,” you said, standing up, “I must hurry back now. If you’ll excuse me.”

Sam stood up with you. The errant thought of resting against his shoulder made an appearance but you shoved it away violently. 

“Wait,” Sam put his hand out to block you. You looked around you to see if anyone else had noticed. No one but Chase.

“Let me introduce the two of you,” he said.

“Wait, I know you,” Chase interjected. “You work with Molly, right? And you’re heading the organising committee.” 

“Chase,” Sam said with gravity, making his friend focus, the green eyes sharpened on you.

Exhaling slowly, Sam turned to you. “This is Chase Lincoln. He works with me at Acton Griswold.” You heard the unsaid words- ‘He’s the one I was talking with that day in the coffee shop; my friend.”

“Chase.” Sam’s voice was heavy, the way Atlas’s might have sounded after a millennia of holding up the earth. There was defeat in it. “This- this is Y/N.”

Each time Sam uttered your name, a warmth settled in your chest. You suspected it was just your eternally besotted mind making up the idea that his voice grew softer when he said it. Apparently, that wasn’t the case, for Chase’s eyes narrowed as he took in the look on Sam’s face, then went wide in a split second. His head rapidly moved from you to Sam in a matter of moments, before his jaw dropped.

“S-… Your… “ Speech seemed to have temporarily evaded Chase. 

“No diamonds,” Sam murmured.

“Y/N!” Someone shouted for you from two rows down. “There’s a problem with the mic. You need to check it out.”

“Ex- Excuse me,” you mumbled, hurrying away from Chase’s astounded stare. Maybe he knew it all, that didn’t particularly surprise you. What did surprise you was how Sam had decidedly made the introduction- as if Chase _had_ to know. 

As it turned out, the mic had only been disconnected. It was working absolutely fine. You were still grateful to have been removed from Chase’s presence, glad that you didn’t have to wait around to witness his judgement. 

The rest of the day flew by faster than you could have guessed. Most of the heavy panel discussions were scheduled for the first day itself. You were blown away by the immense knowledge and expertise of those people, which was a good thing because you desperately needed a distraction. 

You only saw Sam afterwards, once everything was over and the alumni were all catching up with each other, like old friends, reminiscing about the time they had spent together. Even though it was a lot of people there, your eyes kept going to Sam in his thin sweater, in a deep conversation with an aged man, who was laughing at something Sam had said.

“One down, two more days to go,” mumbled Madison. She was leaning against your back. “Can we just sleep here?”

“I told you to come home with me last night,” Rebecca stated, appearing out of nowhere. This time she had Lacey and Meredith with her. “Why did you have to stay up at the library?”

Usually Madison would’ve at least tried to answer. Today, her forehead and nose just dug deeper into your back. You pursed your lips so the smile wouldn’t spill over. She was taking a stand for how she deserved to be treated.

“Well, shit!” Lacey said. “Looks like I wasn’t wrong after all.”

Rebecca groaned. “Ugh she looks like an uptight bimbo.”

You didn’t pay attention to their conversation till Meredith said, “She’s definitely into professor Hotchester.”

Your head snapped up in Sam’s direction, but he was out of the straight line of your vision. Obscuring him was a girl, dressed in a pretty blue chiffon top and tight fitting pencil skirt. Her five inches long pumps caught the light of the setting sun and gleamed. She was tall and beautiful, statuesque in the way a swimsuit model is, her blonde hair fell to the middle of her back in perfect curls. 

As you watched, she threw her hands around Sam’s neck and hugged him tightly. He willingly embraced her, too. You chanced a glance of the smile on his face as she disentangled and laughed, touching Sam’s chest lightly with her hand. 

“Yeah, there’s something there,” Lacey whistled.

“Wonder who she is,” Madison whispered, so only you could hear.

You didn’t need to wonder who it was, you already knew. Jessica Moore. Sam’s Ex-girlfriend.


	23. Chapter 23

** 14th March 2011 **

“The jury was flummoxed, I tell you. Never seen a judge recede with such poor graces.”

“It’s all Winchester. My man slapped it in their faces.”

“Don’t be surprised if they put in your name for the senior associateship. Eh, Winchester? It’s been a streak of one case after another that you’ve nailed.”

Sam shrugged. He couldn’t care less about the case or about what everyone was yapping around. He’d come to the bar to drink, not listen to his praises. In fact, he had excused himself from the group to sit by himself at the bar.

“Winchester’s too cool to care,” one of his colleagues said from the table behind. Sam raised his hand and gestured for the repeat of his whiskey. 

“Sam Winchester, as I live and breathe.”

The voice was familiar and totally unexpected. That’s what made Sam abandon his attention towards the drink. Next to him stood, a leggy blonde, a huge smile on her full lips. “Remember me, stranger?”

“Jess.” The sheer, unanticipated surprise of seeing her had Sam standing up from his chair. “What’re you doing here?”

“It’s good to see you, too!” She threw her arms around him, hugging him tight. 

Jess took a seat next to him, after a round of introductions, and ordered for vodka.

Sam raised his eyebrow. If she was asking for vodka, she meant business. That much he knew of her.

“I’d heard that you ditched the big apple for sunny LA. Too cold for you?”

“Hardly,” he downed the rest of his drink in one gulp. It was starting to hit him now, the fuzz of the alcohol. Already it was hard to make out why sitting this close to Jess was a bad idea. “What brings you to LA? Chicago too boring?”

Jess laughed and the sound was like the peeling of bells. “Nothing’s too boring in corporate. Too rich maybe, but never boring.”

“C’mon, Jess, you hated corporate in college.”

“Judgy, much?” She smirked. “It pays my bills. And you’re the one to talk. Weren’t you all starry eyed about working for the DA? What happened to all that?”

“I got bills, too, ya know?”

She laughed again, licking her lips.

“I didn’t hate corporate when we did the ol’ devil’s tango all over my corporate hypos in college.”

Somehow the repeats were already in front of him. The guys said their goodbyes one by one. Someone even clapped his back with a _‘get some.’_

“I heard some of what they were saying,” Jess said in a hushed voice, too deep. “Look at Sam Winchester being a badass lawyer, and owning it in courts.”

Sam scoffed. “Some dumbass screwed himself over for tax evasion. Wasn’t a big deal. I buried him.”

Jess’s hand rested on his knee. She leaned in to whisper. “I would have liked to see that.”

A nagging in the back of Sam’s head was warning him, but it was too easy to ignore the nagging when Jess’s voice was crooning in his ears, saying things that made him feel something… _anything._

His phone lit up, the screen displaying the name.

“Oh, Dean’s calling,” Jess said, handing him the phone. “Here.”

Sam took it and muted the ringer, letting it ring on silent.

Jess’s eyes widened slightly, otherwise she didn’t make any comment about it.

“How’s Dean?” She asked. “Gosh… I haven’t seen him since… well, convocation.”

“He’s good, I suppose. I haven’t really spoken to him in a couple of months.”

“Sam-”

He simply picked his glass and downed it in one go.

“You didn’t tell me what brought you to LA.” Sam’s words were slurring and his eyes felt droopy.

Did he imagine it? Or did her already flushed cheeks darken? “I actually had some work in San Diego. I drove up to LA, hoping to… well, see you.”

“Really?”

Her hand on his knee was slowly making its way upward, skimming the length of his thigh. “Don’t you miss me at all, Sam? Don’t you miss what we had?”

His addled brain was hearing her words, and he was almost sure it was misconstruing them. He _did_ miss a voice, he _did_ miss a touch. In fact, missing had become as essential a part of his set up as breathing. But was it Jess?

Jess’s touch felt pleasant as her fingers lingered at the skin near his collar and her lips traced the shape of his earlobe, teeth biting it.

Sam shivered. 

Yes, it was pleasant and familiar.

“Do you want to maybe get out of here?” She purred. “My hotel’s close by.”

Sam didn’t exactly remember how he got into the bed. One minute he was stumbling out of the bar chair, unable to stand straight and next he was falling into the soft mattress. 

Warm hands were undoing the buttons of his shirt, one at a time. His coat or tie didn’t seem to hinder the way. Maybe they weren’t on him. He felt lips, soft as petals, leave trailing kisses on his neck, his chest and lower on his stomach. 

The nagging in his head was taking on a ferocious edge- it was ripping, snarling. Sam tried to shove it away.

Why should he listen to this nagging? Why shouldn’t he just give in to this sensation of being wanted? 

“Jess,” he breathed, raising his hand to- he didn’t know to do… what? Push her away? Pull her close?

Sam wouldn’t find out, for in that minute, something silver caught the light of the moon from the open window. The glint cleared just enough fuzz in the brain to understand.

The next second he was on his elbows, sliding back. “Jess,” he slurred. “I can’t… I- I’m married.” He shoved his left hand forward, showing her the source of the shine, the ring on his finger.

She didn’t appear bothered by it as she leaned down to plant another kiss on the corner of his mouth. “I know.”

Sam backed away further. “No… no… you’re not getting it. I’m _married_.”

Patiently, she backed away just a bit and for the first time Sam noticed that she was only in her bra, her shirt was on the floor. When had that happened? Had _he_ done it?

“I know what happened, Sam,” she said. “Cole told me about your shotgun wedding and how the girl bailed on you.”

Jess was speaking the truth, but her words were garbled- twisted and painful. She made it sound as if he had married Y/N out of obligation for the child, as if he had been forced into it and Y/N had left because she was fickle. The corners of his eyes stung.

“That was what? Two or three years ago?” She reasoned. “To hell with her. She didn’t know what she was leaving. I do.”

Her hands were back on his, still pleasant, but the touch hurt now.

“No.” He sat up completely, head starting to spin. “I have a wife. I can’t do this to her.”

Jess’s patience which had been cracking, fell off completely. “Why are you so _stubborn,_ Sam? It’s like you’re not even trying to be happy! You’re just clinging to something that’s long gone.” She let out a groan of frustration. “She left you, Sam!”

He knew that. Y/N had left him, and taken all his happiness with her. “But _I’m_ not leaving her.”

Jess sat back, giving up. “Do you have any clue how fucked up this is?”

He knew. Jess hadn’t been the first person to tell him that he should let go, get the marriage annulled, get his freedom back or have some fun. What they didn’t seem to understand was that if Y/N had wanted that freedom, he would have been served the divorce papers by now. The fact that she hadn’t was reason enough for him to not give up.

He’d also been told that maybe it didn’t matter to her, that she was out there sleeping with other guys… but none of those people knew her like Sam did. They might think he was stubborn or even foolish, but this was the only way he knew of going about his life.

Oh, it didn’t mean he wasn’t furious with Y/N. He was _livid._ If she ever came before him now, Sam didn’t think he could stop himself from yelling. However, it also didn’t mean he didn’t love her as much still. Sam knew now, as he had known then that she was the only one for him.

If he couldn’t be with her, he couldn’t be with anyone.

“I’m sorry, Jess,” he said, eyes cast down as he unsteadily got up to his feet. “I think I should go.”

She wasn’t looking at him either. “I think that would be the best.” As hard as she tried to hide it, Sam could still hear the heartbreak in her voice, the pain and frustration of dashed hopes. He felt like an absolute piece of garbage for doing that to her.

“I’m really sorry, Jess,” he mumbled at the door, before closing it behind him.

Why couldn’t he do the logical thing and let go of Y/N? He thought to himself in the back of the cab later. Why couldn’t he just move on? It would not only make his life easier, it would also relieve him of the constant anger, the constant yearning in his chest- make it possible for him to face his family, to go back home again.

And yet, even as he thought of letting go, his subconscious clung to her memory with both hands, more fiercely, like she was some drug he needed to survive. Jess had been right, it _was_ fucked up.

Bitterly, he yanked the ring off his finger, and closed his palm tightly around it, till it hurt. Yes, she hadn’t broken off the marriage, but Y/N wasn’t here to see it through, either. Jess’s words stung. 

Sam didn’t put the ring back on, he wouldn’t from now on. Not because of what had just passed, but because he didn’t know if Y/N would have wanted him to. The ring was merely a symbol of his commitment, and the most that it did was keep women from interacting with him in bars. Though, if tonight was any indication, maybe the ring wouldn’t help with that anymore.

He didn’t need a symbol to know of his own commitment. As hopelessly as he wanted to be over her, he was just that hopelessly in love. Accepting the absolute defeat, he leaned back against the seat and looked out on the dark streets of LA.

There was no going back for him, and there was no moving on. Sam knew he was doomed to live like this- by himself- for the rest of his days. And though it might appear to be a huge price to pay, he knew in his gut that the one year spent with Y/N was worth it.

* * *

Despite all his reservations about the Induction fair, Sam had to admit he was having fun. So many of the guys he’d lost touch with over the years had decided to attend this time. He almost felt twenty-two again, to be young and carefree. Sam was also surprised to note just how same most of them still were. They were good people- Jason, Hannah, Cole, Gill and… Jess. Sam had been bracing himself for her cold shoulder and it never came. Chase had been right- she was as self-possessed as ever and in no time had Sam laughing like old times. 

It had always been so easy with Jess. Even when they had decided to break up, it had been amicable. She was heading to the University of Chicago in the fall and Sam to Yale, neither of them saw it working over the distance- they had always known. A small part of Sam had suspected even then, despite her best efforts to hide it, that the break-up had affected her more than him. They’d both belonged in different worlds- hers sophisticated and bright; Sam’s just his brother.

Sam stood leaning against the wall of the gathering hall. The lights were dim, the many disco balls overhead throwing random flashes on the ground below. Whoever was incharge of this part of the fair had gone above and beyond with the theme- alcohol, conversations, music and bodies were all flowing uninterrupted as people danced and laughed. As was his reflex, his eyes kept flickering towards Y/N who was dancing with a guy, a smile on her face.

He looked out for Chase, too, who was probably trying to find the hottest fresher in the lot. Sam shook his head at the thought. He was glad that Chase had disappeared. It had been hard to get him to shut up- not that anything he’d said had been intelligible in the beginning. Chase had to know, otherwise he wouldn’t stop setting Sam up with women. The other reason was Sam knew if he kept in all inside him, he’d burst open. Telling Jody had been one weight off his chest, however, she meant something to Y/N, as well. Sam was pretty sure that Jody wouldn’t hold the past against Y/N, but on the off chance that she might, Sam didn’t want to prejudice her anymore.

Chase had no connection to Y/N whatsoever. He was only Sam’s friend. Still, it made Sam worry that Chase would judge Y/N, take Sam’s side and think ill of her. Why did it all have to be so complicated?

Briefly, he wondered if he should go home and check on Max, like he had in the afternoon, but Jody had assured him that she would stay over. According to her, she was too old to be at late night induction fair parties. Besides, Max would already be asleep by now- it was past ten. 

“May I have this dance?” Jess stood before him, a mischievous smile on her full lips. She had always been too beautiful.

“I don’t think I deserve it.”

“Oh, shut up,” she rolled her eyes. “Being too gentlemanly was always your problem.” She took him by his hand and all but dragged him on to the floor.

Lightly Sam put his hand around her waist and she hooked hers behind his neck. 

“I can pinpoint at least five guys who want to kill me right now,” Sam said and her laughter trilled in the air above the music.

“They’ll survive.”

Jess looked stunning in the tight fitted blue dress which matched the color of her eyes. 

“You know I’m really disappointed in you.” She slapped his chest as they began to move to the music.”

“Oh?” 

“I’ve been dying to meet your son! You didn’t mention him even once today! How dare you?”

An automatic smile came over his face at the mention of Max. He was sure it was a proud one and that people must think he was an insufferable parent. Sam didn’t care.

“I didn’t know that you knew about Max.”

“Oh please, everyone knows about him,” she rolled her eyes. “It’s just that no one’s heard it from _you._ You just dropped off from touch, Sam. Why?”

“Jess,” he murmured. “I just- I’ve been feeling awful about the last time… the way I left things. You didn’t deserve that. I was an asshole.” 

“You, Sam Winchester, are many things,” she said, putting a finger to his chest. “An asshole isn’t one of them.” 

She sighed. “It was just horrible timing, and you were crazy drunk. The last time I saw you that drunk was at Josh Grayson’s frat party in second year! It takes two to tango, Sam. I shouldn’t have pushed you that night knowing you weren’t completely conscious. It wasn’t right.”

“You’re making me sound like a 70’s heroine, about to be robbed of her virtue.”

Jess laughed. “I’m glad I came. After last time, I wasn’t sure if I wanted to see you again.” She saw the expression on his face and immediately corrected herself. “What I meant was, I wanted to meet you. Of course, I did! I just wasn’t sure _what_ I’d find when I did.”

Sam frowned. “What do you mean?”

She shifted closer to him, ever so subtly. “That guy I saw in the bar in LA? That wasn’t the Sam I know. He was someone else- colder and ruthless. There was none of the warmth about him that I’ve come to associate with you. This-” she said, flattening her hand on his chest- _“This_ is the guy I know, the one I fell in love with all those years ago.”

Sam didn’t counter her. “You’re not wrong,” he said. “I was off on a completely destructive tangent. If it hadn’t been for Max, I’m not sure what you would have found today, either.”

“I heard what you did for him,” Jess’s voice was soft. “Only someone with a heart of gold like yours could have done that.”

“Barely,” Sam scoffed. He could guess how the situation looked to outsiders, but only he knew that Max had been the one to save him instead of the other way round. “He’s a great kid. The best, honestly. So smart and kind. Life’s been so cruel to him at such a young age and he still shines bright. I learn from him everyday.”

“You sound like a soccer mom.” There was no hint of teasing in her voice, just joy for what Sam had found. “I’m happy that you’re happy.”

Her tone turned sly, “Though, it wouldn’t have anything to do with that girl over there, now, would it?”

Sam stiffened. He didn’t have to see who Jess was pointing towards.

“Oh, look at her. She’s absolutely lovely!” Jess sighed. “I can see why you couldn’t move on.”

Reluctantly Sam followed her gaze. Y/N was still dancing in the arms of a man he’d never seen before. He looked at least a couple of years older, his blue eyes happy as he made her twirl. Y/N was trying to make a full circle, but she was bad at it- she had always been so bad at dancing.

“How did you know?” Sam asked quietly.

Jess snorted. “The way you’ve been trying your best to not look at her for the past hour since she’s been dancing? And the way you’ve been stealing looks all through the day speaks volumes. That’s enough.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Really, how _did_ you know?”

“Fine!” She gave in. “Chase told me. But I already knew you were up to something with her. It’s not hard to see just how much you still love her. The way you look at her… you never even looked at me that way.”

“Jess-”

She put a finger on his lips, and Sam almost took a step back. He would have if he hadn’t been concerned about hurting Jess’s feelings more than he already was.

“It’s not your fault, Sam. We all have people we can’t get over,” she said ruefully. “Though what’s stopping you from pursuing her now, I don’t understand.”

Sam’s heart twisted at the sadness she was trying so hard to hide. But Jess was determined to play it cool, and he wouldn’t make this any harder for her than it already was. Afterall, he knew first hand how wretched this feeling was- of wanting something, and never getting to have it. At least, he could draw solace knowing what Jess felt wasn’t anywhere close to the anguish he lived through. He wasn’t diminishing her emotions at all, on the contrary, he just knew her well enough to know she was only regretful.

So Sam could bring some teasing into his voice. “I teach Civil procedure to her class.”

“When’s that ever stopped anyone? She giggled. “Remember Janice Houston? Tell me she didn’t sleep with Professor Whit-”

“Shhhhh…” Sam shushed her, hurriedly, looking around. “He still teaches here, dammit!”

“Admit it, it’s kinda hot,” she grinned. “And you have all the excuses in the world.”

Sam was glad that the room was dark. His face was definitely flaming. He wanted to be mad at Jess for putting that image in his head. It was going to live there rent free for the rest of eternity. Y/N’s hands loosening his tie, fingers fisting in his hair, pulling him close as she straddled him on the desk of his office…

“Jessica Lee Moore!” He groaned. “Why?”

Jess laughed freely. “Be a little adventurous, Winchester. What’s the fun in playing safe?”

“You haven’t changed a bit.” He laughed with her.

They danced in circles for a bit more. Jess was still stealing looks at Y/N whenever she could, but Sam kept his eyes on the girl in front of him.

“Honestly, Sam,” she said, serious this time. “What is stopping you now?”

Max. The past. The fact that she doesn’t love me like I love her. “I don’t know, Jess. Everything’s too jumbled up.”

She looked at him hard for a minute, then said with confidence. “You haven’t forgiven her.”

“What? No!” He burst out. “I’m not angry with her anymore.”

Jess shook her head. “S’ not the same thing. It’s possible to not be angry with someone, and still not forgive them.”

“But I understand why she did it,” he insisted. 

“Again, not the same thing. The fact that you understand, isn’t the same as you not holding it against her. Look me in the eye and tell me you’ve forgiven her for not trusting you, for leaving you when you needed her the most and then never coming back.”

“I wasn’t what she needed,” he whispered, not quite meeting her eyes, “She did what was best for her.”

“There it is.” Her voice rang with the satisfaction of victory. “Forgive her. You’ll save yourself a lot of heartache. Forgive her and win her over, champ!”

Sam wanted to protest, wanted to argue that there was nothing to forgive Y/N for, that he was fine with her choosing herself over him, over their life together. They had been talking lately, hadn’t they? Why was Jess putting ideas in his mind?

With a sigh, she let her hands fall from around his neck and stopped dancing. “I have to go.” 

“What? No!” Sam protested. “You just got here! You can’t leave already. You’ve not even seen Acton Gris yet”

“Really, Sam. I can’t stay,” she said, her eyes sad. 

“Won’t you even stay to meet Max?”

“I wish I could, but I’ve got work Monday morning.” Her eyes began to fill up. “I’ve left a box in your office. It’s for Max, okay? Tell him his coolest aunt will be back with more. You’ll do that, won’t you?”

“I will,” he said, his throat thick.

“And don’t drop out of touch again. You’re still my friend no matter what. You always will be!”

Jess raised herself on her toes and kissed his cheek softly. Sam couldn’t help throwing his arms around her, wishing there was some damned way to fix the mess. She sniffed once and then pulled back. 

“Goodbye,” she called, hurrying away, almost fleeing. “I’m rooting for you! Go, get em, Tiger!”

“Goodbye, Jess,” he whispered too late, long after she had disappeared out of the door.

* * *

“I never thought I’d meet a person who was worse than me at this,” Cas said mournfully, as for the fifth time you stepped on his foot.

“Crap, I’m so sorry,” you apologised. “This was a terrible idea. You shouldn’t have agreed!”

He chuckled. “Oh, no. Permanent foot damage aside, this is actually fun. I never do normal social things anymore. It’s just the hospital shifts.”

“Oh, c’mon,” you poked out your tongue. “Meg’s not that bad. I’m sure you guys have some fun together.”

Cas blushed.

“I know it’s been hard for you, Y/N, covering up after us. I appreciate it more than I can tell you.”

“I don’t know why you guys want to hide it in the first place!”

Cas scratched his neck, “It’s her idea. I don’t know the reason behind it, but as long as she’s happy…”

He was such a great guy. “So you don’t mind at all?”

“Mind? No!” Cas smiled. “I can’t seem to get enough time with her as it is, so sneaking around is just fine. If I had it my way, I’d just want us to live together.”

“Whoa!”

He looked shocked and embarrassed at his admission, “I mean… I don’t know how she’ll feel about that.”

“Maybe you should ask her.” When Cas looked dubious, you put on an encouraging smile. “You should! Waiting for the right time is a myth.”

Cas appeared satisfied by that answer. That was the thing about him, he never overanalyzed words. His empathy for all things big and small made him see right through a situation to what lay at its crux.

“There’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about,” Cas said, out of the blue. 

“Yeah?”

“That little kid you had with you the other day… what was his name?”

“Max?”

Cas’s brow furrowed. “Yeah, Max. I had been thinking about where I’ve seen him before. Now, I remember. I’ve seen him at the hospital.”

Your worry and words were instantaneous. “What’s wrong with him? Does someone hurt him?” The scars on his small body had refused to leave your mind. More than once you had woken up in cold sweat with nightmares about Max being hurt. It wasn’t like you to be so attached to someone so soon, but something about the boy’s safety had you anxious all the time.

“No,” Cas reassured you. “On the contrary, it’s for therapy. When I was posted in the pediatrics ward, he used to visit the psychologist there.”

“You remember the faces of all the kids?” That was unlikely.

Cas shook his head. “The psychologist was a bit shaken up after that meeting. Imagine _that,_ ” Cas said the next words fearfully. “There’s something very dark in your little friend’s past, Y/N.”

You shivered in Cas’s arm at the mere thought of hurt befalling that sweet boy- trusting as he was. 

“Wait, what do you mean by _‘used to?’_ Doesn’t he visit the psychologist anymore?”

“No, but that’s a good thing. It means he’s seeing an independent therapist now, that he doesn’t need a clinical psychologist. It means Max is doing so much better.”

Your heart reached out for Max. Maybe it was his mother. At least, it meant that his trauma was in the past. Whatever it was, his dad wasn’t abusing him. In fact, he was taking enough care to seek therapy for his kid. A knot of tension dissolved itself within you.

“Meg told me about what happened last Friday,” Cas said, changing the topic. “Must be hard to be around him.” You knew exactly what Cas was talking about.

You chanced a look at where Sam had been dancing with Jess- the spot was empty.

Jess hadn’t left Sam’s side for most of the day, hooking her arm in his, touching his shoulders or his face often. The fresher class of Stanford Law school was having a field day scrutinising their each move, breaking it down in terms of body language and almost everyone arriving at the same conclusion simultaneously- there was an affair brewing there. So their sexy professor had an equally sexy girlfriend.

They had one half nailed. Jess was sexy- beautiful hair, legs for days and an absolutely charming smile. She was still into Sam. You knew because you recognised the symptoms, having suffered from the safe affliction. But all the truth in their theories stopped with that, because Sam wasn’t into her. You had seen Sam in love and this wasn’t it. If there was another girl in his life, it wasn’t Jessica. 

You had stolen glances at them dancing, happy that Sam was having a great time. What would you not give to be able to dance with him.

“You’re still in love with him,” Cas said. There was no question in his voice.

“I don’t know how that can be helped.”

Cas steadied you with his hands and pulled you in for a light hug. “It’ll be alright. I don’t know how, but it will be.”

You were left pondering over his words after Cas left for his shift. Your heart was so full of his quiet reassurance, you decided to head home and sleep while basking in it. There wasn’t much except conclusion speeches and vote of thanks tomorrow in the first half. You decided to catch up on the missing shifts at the library soon after. It wasn’t a good thing to take advantage of Molly’s kindness. If you were to accomplish all of that tomorrow, you had to go to bed early. 

“Water?”

You didn’t even have to look this time before a smile appeared on your lips.

“You’ve taken it up as a personal mission to keep me hydrated?”

Sam handed you the bottle. “I learn quickly. You’ve been on your feet continuously for the past two days.”

It pleased you more that it should that he’d been observing you and even more that he was worrying.

You put the bottle to your lips and took a few gulps, realising just how thirsty you were.

“Where’s Jess?” You asked peering around him.

Sam started. “She left,” he said with a strange expression on his face. “You remember, huh?”

Your smile must have been smug. “Of course. After having spent all that time teasing you, how could I forget? Wasn’t she the one who accidentally made you smoke oregano?” 

“Yep, she’s the one!”

The group dancing behind you did a particularly twisted wave and the last person banged into you, jerking you forward and right into Sam. The bottle slipped from your hand and hit him square in the chest- the splashing water making an arc and drenching him- before crashing to the ground.

“Oh gosh! I’m so sorry,” you said, sinking to the ground to retrieve the bottle. Instinctively, Sam had done the same and your head hit against his shoulder in the darkness.

“Sorry!” You groaned again.

“It’s fine,” Sam brushed you off. He was holding the neckline of his sweater, shrugging it repeatedly to shake off the water. The thin material of his sweater was starting to stick to his chest and stomach. 

You unwrapped the scarf from around your neck and said, “Let me,” before realising that you in fact couldn’t help him that way in public.

“Here,” you offered him the scarf anyway.

Sam took the silky piece of cloth from you and started patting on the front. “It’s actually a funny story,” he said, yanking the neckline to the side to get the water there, “Whenever I wear this sweater, something has to spill- “

You were barely listening, for as he tried to dry himself, the thin chain around his neck shone in the disco light. You had seen it several times and even wondered what had prompted him to wear it. Sam wasn’t the one for jewelry. Now, as he shook the hem again, the force propelled the chain out and in front. Dangling from the end of the chain was a plain, silver ring. It spun along with the metal cord, glinting in multi colors.

Your breath caught in your throat.

“- So it’s really just the sweater. It’s not your fault,” Sam was saying, dabbing at his sleeves.

“Excuse me, I’ve got to go,” you whispered.

He looked disappointed. “Let me walk you home-”

“No!” Your voice sounded hollow.

Sam’s eyes focused on you. “Y/N-”

“Bye,” you mumbled, sprinting across the makeshift dance floor.

“Your scarf!” His words trailed behind you but you didn’t pause to reply. You didn’t break your stride till you were crouching next to the fountain in the meadow, tears mingling with sweat. 

As the realisation dawned upon you, words from long ago came back: _“I promise to love and cherish you, till my last breath. Till death do us part.”_

He’d kept his promise. Impossibly, inconceivably, you were _still_ married to Sam. He was still your _husband._


	24. Chapter 24

You stumbled on to the sofa in a bit of a daze, drawing the rug over you to keep the chill at bay. Your mind was screaming out in a dissonance of voices, all telling you different things at the same time, pushing you to go back to him, to ask him why didn’t he rid himself of a relationship that must have brought him nothing but hurt and pain? Why had he dragged this marriage all by himself for so long?

It was clear as day now- there was no other girl in Sam’s life. Only you. For all your incessant speculation, it had only ever been _you._

“Y/N, you okay?”

Meg was next to you, her hand on your arm. “What happened?”

“I’m still married to him,” you whispered. “I’m still married to Sam. Meg-” you turned to her- “I thought he would’ve annulled the marriage. He had no reason to be bound to it. I left him high and dry. It’s the first thing he should’ve done- free himself… but… I saw his wedding ring. I can’t believe…”

Meg got up and walked to the fridge. You watched as she pulled out two beer bottles, opened them with her teeth and handed you one. She took a seat next to you, swinging her arm around your shoulder.

Slowly, you brought the bottle to your lips and took a swig. The cold bitterness of the beer was strangely comforting next to the warmth of your friend’s body. Meg didn’t utter a word. She drank from her own bottle, not easing the grip on your shoulder.

It was going to be a whole new challenge to face Sam now. Up until today you were simply happy that in Sam’s friendship, you were getting back crumbs of what you used to have. To know that he was still very much yours and yet not yours at all was very very painful. Wouldn’t you want to fling yourself at him the next time you saw him? 

You wanted to ask Sam why he hadn’t severed the ties legally, but you didn’t think you had it in you. What would you say? _So hey, Sam… remember when you loved me so much, but I left you anyway? Yeah, so why are we still married?_

He’d kept his every promise, been faithful to you all along. You realised with a shock that you and Sam had been looking at the whole situation from two completely different angles. When you’d seen him in the lecture hall, a part of your past- one which you’d tried to bury very deep had resurfaced again. For him, he’d stepped into a generic lecture and found his wife staring down at him. It explained so much- Why he’d never been as lost to himself as you had been to yourself. You had resented his ability to smile, to be himself while you’d been a wreck all these years. Only now did you understand that the reason he had held on to himself was because he had never let go of _you._

Silent tears rolled down cheeks as anger and disgust for yourself weighed you down. 

“It’ll be alright,” Meg said in a low voice.

You took another swig, wondering if Sam will ever stop surprising you and knowing once again that you never deserved him.

* * *

“Bad night?” Madison was sympathetic. 

You answered honestly, “It was my doing, I had it coming.”

“We’re almost to the end. You can sleep the exhaustion off.”

The two of you were sitting in the front row, waiting to be called up on the stage for the vote of thanks. It was relieving that the Induction fair had come to an end without any incidence- everything had gone as smoothly as you had planned and a lot of the alumni had come up to you to congratulate you for planning and managing it so well. You even had a couple of contact cards tucked in the pocket of your jacket, asking you to give them a call for the summer internship.

Madison was really impressed that you had offers. Summer internships were rare for first years, especially so without recommendations. She was sad for herself that Acton Griswold never broke the first year rule. You encouraged her to use her dad’s influence if it helped. It wasn’t like she would be taking someone else’s place. She would only be creating one for herself. To be a good lawyer, one had to be pragmatic, you understood that very well and didn’t judge Madison for wanting to use all the resources at her disposal.

When it was time for the vote of thanks, you made it a point to thank all the speakers and hosts and then your team- each of the members individually for having your back. There had been some wonderful lectures and discussions. You might have been biased, but Sam’s had been the best- it was hopeful and inspiring. He’d looked great on the stage.

Afterwards, the committee had arranged a small lunch for the alumni still left, in one of the campus eateries. There was expensive alcohol and enticing music. A lot of people made their way to the center of the room and began dancing again, trying to revive the mood from last night. On your part, you were simply trying to avoid Sam. You could sense that he was trying to catch your eyes- probably to ask you why you had left so suddenly last evening. Luckily, he was a popular target and people kept going up to him to strike conversations.

You felt a hand on your shoulder, then another at your waist, making you jump back a step.

“Hey, it’s me!” Brad said with his usual arrogant grin. 

“What’re you doing?”

“You promised me a dance, remember?”

You wanted to slap yourself for agreeing to it. “I didn’t _promise_ anything.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” he smirked. “You said one dance. Yesterday your guy didn’t leave you for a second and then you disappeared. At least, let me have one dance now?”

You knew from experience that he wouldn’t budge, so as annoying as it was, you put your hand on his shoulder- not to draw yourself closer to him, but to maintain a firm distance. If you were going to dance, it would be at your terms.

“Gee, I’m feeling very lucky today!” 

“I can’t even dance.”

“That’s fine.” There it was again, the overconfidence. “Hey, listen. Me and the guys and some people from class are having a pool party this weekend. I’ll see you there, right?”

“I can’t. I’ll be working this weekend.”

He rolled his eyes. “I know you aren’t working. I checked the schedule at the library. So don’t even try to wiggle out of this one.”

“I don’t know why you won’t give up, Brad,” you sighed as you moved from side to side. 

“Because I know one day you’ll say yes. No one’s ever said no to me… except you.”

“So this is about your ego?”

He snorted. “It’s because I really like you. At least, give it a shot. What’s stopping you?”

The fact that I don’t like you. At all. And oh, apparently, I’m married.

“I’m not interested in dating anyone,” you told him flatly. 

Something in his eyes changed, they became darker, his jaw tensed. “Let me change your mind.” His hand pressed against the small of your back, bunching up in the fabric of your dress. The fingers resting against your shoulders dug into the skin. He leaned in quickly- before you could react- far too quickly.

Just as you braced yourself to push him away, another hand landed on your shoulder, right above Brad’s, yanking his fingers away none too gently.

“Y/N!” A cheerful voice exclaimed, pulling you right from Brad’s arms into his own. 

“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,” said Chase Lincoln, with the sort of jovial outrage that comes only after years and years of friendship. “How dare you evade me like this, you frivolous wench!”

You were absolutely baffled; next to you, so was Brad.

Chase turned to give him a dismissive look. “I’m sorry, mate,” he said, not sounding sorry at all. “I have some business to settle with this girl, here. If you’ll excuse us.”

Without waiting for Brad to react, Chase whirled you away, single handedly managing to keep the both of you upright. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean,” you stuttered, as he spun you. His hands were light on your waist and in your hand- very respectable.

“Don’t say sorry,” he grinned. “I thought you were in a bit of a tight spot over there.” 

“I was,” you breathed, still trying to keep up with his pace of dancing. You wanted to thank him for saving you from that, at the same time you didn’t want to utter the words because you barely knew the man.

“Look-”

“Don’t thank me,” he cut you off. “It was the decent thing to do. Besides, my friend over there would have snapped a tendon or two, if I hadn’t.”

Chase jerked his head in the direction and you followed with your gaze to see Sam standing ramrod straight, hands balled into fists, jaw clenched. Even from this far away you could see he was coiled like a tight wire about to snap.

“He couldn’t intercede,” Chase said in a low voice. “And I couldn’t help but. Then there’s also the matter that I’ve been dying to get in a word with the lovely Mrs. Winchester. It’s not like Sam can come break us up either.” 

Mrs. Winchester. The name resonated in your ears. If you hadn’t had all of the last miserable night to accept that fact, your legs might have just given out now.”

Chase laughed all of a sudden, the sound apologetic. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you or anything. You can ask me to get the hell lost and that would be that.”

“I don’t know what you want.”

At least, Chase wasn’t hurling abuses at her for ditching Sam. 

“It’s nothing to do with Sam, actually,” he said. You noticed for the first time just how sharp his green eyes were. They gave you the feeling of being Xrayed. Not many people must be able to lie to him. “I have an offer for you.”

“An offer?”

“Yep. How would you like to come and work at Acton Griswold? It’s a great place to work in.”

You stared at him. “You’re kidding, right?”

“Wouldn’t dare.”

“I know Acton Gris doesn’t take first year interns.” Not even with recommendations.

Chase grinned. “Who’s talking about internships? Hell, no. You’ll be left with photo-copying and standing in café lines all day. I’m talking about actual work. I had the chance to go through your CV for the committee selection. Come work there as a part-time paralegal.”

“I wouldn’t fit in,” you mumbled. Chase’s words did not make any sense. You had no backing, neither were you naïve. You knew jobs like that had hundreds and hundreds of applications every week.

His eyes twinkled. “Trust me, you would. I could recommend you. I’m sure after more than two years of working there, I have enough pull.”

“Please, don’t.” Despite having asked Madison to use all the pull, you couldn’t bear the idea of someone doing it for you. 

“Look, Sam told me that you helped him out with James’s case. I feel terrible about being swamped that day and not being there for him. Even his assistant, Stacey was on a leave. You saved that poor kid from jail.”

You hadn’t really done anything, and you told Chase that. His answering smile looked peaceful, like you had cleared some unknown test.

“Will you, at least, apply? I swear I won’t do anything to further your application. If you get in, it’ll be all you.” He hesitated before adding. “I won’t tell Sam if you don’t want me to.”

“Oh, no… it’s nothing like that. I don’t want to keep anything from him.” Not anymore.

Chase smiled. “Don’t worry, he’s too high up to be involved with the paralegals anyway. Word around the block is, they’re considering him for senior partner. He’d be the youngest in their history.”

You dropped your hands from around his shoulder, clapping them. “My God, that’s wonderful!” The grin spreading on your lips threatened to split your face. “I can’t think of anyone who would deserve it more.”

“That makes two of us.” Chase let go of you completely. “I’m glad he has someone who would be happy about his successes.”

That wiped the grin off of your face completely.

“He’s not the sort of guy who leaves people behind. When he left Johnson’s, he didn’t ditch Stacey, he brought her along… and me. I don’t think he has the ability to move on.”

The words felt heavy in the air between the two of you, and with Chase’s eyes boring into yours it was impossible to look away. He was imploring you to believe him. 

He gave you his patented grin, one that said he was up to no good. “And unlike your college here, Acton Gris has no policy against fraternizing. I’ll see you around, Y/N!” Chase nodded and backed away, leaving you standing there wondering what the hell had just happened. 

* * *

Sam hurriedly cleared his desk, in an effort to get out soon. Sundays were strictly reserved for Max… It’s a rule he didn’t break, Induction fairs notwithstanding. Those were mandatory for him as a faculty member.

So much for him dreading the Induction fair because it would be boring. Sam should have known nothing with Y/N could be even remotely disinteresting. In the past weekend, he’d oscillated from the nervousness of a teenager to a piercing hope. Today, he’d almost had a coronary.

Sam knew it was wrong. God, he knew it was wrong to want to punch a guy- especially a student! But he’d been touching Y/N… when she didn’t want to be touched. Sam could have sworn, that guy had leaned in with the intention of kissing her. He was almost sure. God bless Chase’s soul for jumping in when he did.

Chase had drawn her in his arms gently, and then turned to throw Sam a wink. Chase was the best wingman when he wanted to be one.

Then there was the new anxiety of having Chase with her. Y/N- she wasn’t like other people. She felt things _too_ deeply and Chase didn’t know that. What if he said anything that unconsciously hurt her… or accidentally mentioned Max or something from Sam’s past? As it is the way she’d left yesterday had Sam on edge.

Abruptly Y/N grinned and Chased bowed just a bit. Sam’s whole body relaxed. 

He turned around and headed back to his office in the Law building. Standing there, watching Y/N was only drawing him thin. There were still a few papers he needed to grade and then get back to Max as soon as possible.

Not for the first time, Sam was grateful for Max. In all this mess, his kid kept him tethered. Sam would have gone off the orbit and done something stupid regarding Y/N. But one thought of Max and he was grounded back to reality. Max was his first priority… not that the kid was making it any easy for him lately.

Sam had seen him looking at Y/N’s photo again last night. The picture, one of her standing by the balcony, was taken a few days after her first acceptance. She was smiling down at Dean who was mowing the lawn and Sam had clicked the moment unbeknownst to her. She looked gorgeous. Sam couldn’t bear to see it everyday, so the picture had remained in the first drawer of his bedside table. In his moments of weakness, he could hold on to it and remind himself, something that pure had been his once.

A flimsy material caught Sam’s attention as he shut his desk drawer. Y/N’s scarf from last night. He hadn’t taken it home with him, choosing to leave it. 

Maybe he could drop it at her place on his way home. That would be an innocent reason, right? He could ask her what was up with her yesterday. Y/N had been miffed at Sam for not seeing her in the library often. That meant not meeting him must be a bad thing for her. Sam was more excited about the prospect of returning her scarf than he was about most things in his life.

The door to Sam’s office sprang open, making him look up in surprise.

Y/N’s roommate, Meg, was standing at the door, her face a mask of contempt. 

“Meg,” he said, surprised.

“Didn’t expect me, did you?”

Her hostile sneer would have tipped him off, had Sam not been riding the high if getting to see Y/N.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t,” he said. “Please, take a seat.”

“Cut out your bullshit, Winchester,” she spat, coming up to him. “What do you think you’re doing making Y/N’s life miserable like that?”

Sam couldn’t understand. “What… what do you mean?”

“Don’t,” she hissed. “Don’t you dare act like you don’t know anything. Every time she meets you, Y/N’s a wreck. When she found out you were the one who got her home that night… she was besides herself. I’ve never seen her so terrified or more out of her element. And I don’t know what the fuck you did to her last night, but she couldn’t stop crying.”

Meg took another step forward. “You think it’s so cool dragging her along with you like this? Why don’t you set her free? Or are you that much of a sadist to see her suffer day in and day out?”

“Suffer?” He repeated dully.

“When I first saw her, Y/N looked dead,” Meg said, fury in each word. “Her eyes were sunken and her cheeks were hollowed. When she laughed for the first time, it sounded hysterical, like she’d forgotten how to do it. Hell, her skin stretched over her bones even when she smiled. I’ve seen her struggle day after day trying to get a hold on herself, learn how to be happy again… and if you mess that up, Winchester, I swear I’ll smash your face in.”

Sam knew he should say something back, anything, but the picture that Meg had painted was too painful… a hollow Y/N, the one that had left him in the hospital. If she’d been the same when she moved in with Meg, how many years had she suffered at the stake of such mind numbing agony? And yet, he had seen life behind her eyes… he’d seen her happy, smiling…

“I don’t know what you did to her all those years ago,” she continued, her voice like ice. “Y/N wouldn’t say, but I know it was enough to kill a part of her. And I know somehow it was your fault.”

“Did she say that? Did Y/N say it was because of me?” 

“No!” She spat, frustrated. “I don’t know why she can’t see what you’re doing to her. I can. You’re a slow seeping poison. Just leave her alone. Y/N was happy before you decided to come back and wreck her life again. Set her free.”

Something was choking Sam’s breath, words just wouldn’t come out. Was he keeping her from happiness? Was that why she had fled last night?

Meg jabbed a finger in his direction. “Remember.”

She turned on her heel and was almost out of the door when Sam managed to croak, “Meg-”

Meg looked over her shoulder. 

With numb legs Sam made his way to her. “Take this with you,” he said, handing her the scarf with shaking hands. “It’s Y/N’s. She gave it to me yesterday. It would be best if you give it back to her.”

Meg snatched the scarf from him and then with one last look of derision, stormed out.

All Sam could do was fall in his chair, hands raking through his hair. What had he been thinking? What had been playing at? As if there was any chance in the world that he wouldn’t remind Y/N of what she had lost. Of course she was hurting and it was his damn fault, because he thought they could be friends again, because he hoped it could ever lead to anything more.

And there was always Max to think of. Right in front of his eyes the flimsy dream he had brought to life collapsed in a heap of shattered glass. Maybe in a parallel reality somewhere, Y/N would be in his life, Max would be _their_ son and everything would be perfect. This was not that world. Here, Sam was sentenced to live out his life by himself and he’d be damned if let Y/N get hurt because of him again.


	25. Chapter 25

“Last time I checked this was a library desk, not a grocery store counter,” Molly teased. “Why’re you piling cheese on top of the table?”

“I’m so sorry, Molly. This will only take a few minutes. I’ll fit it in my bag.”

“Y/N, your bag is threatening to split open,” Molly fussed. “Here, take my tote. I have an extra one in the Librarian’s room.”

“You sure?”

“Yes, hon, it’s just a bag. Take it.”

Grateful, you started putting the rest of your shopping in Molly’s bag. The flour you’d have to carry in your hand. There was just no space for it. You had made a quick run to the grocery store, making the most of the cancelled lecture and bought everything you could think of. The proverb _‘Less is more’_ did not apply to baking. Mies Van der Rohe could suck it.

“Who are you so pumped up about? Eh? I see you’ve found yourself a special guy after all.”

“Very special,” you grinned.

Molly’s eyebrows shot up, “Whaaaa? Girl, spill!”

“So there is this endearing little boy in the neighbourhood and I’ve invited him for some pie.”

Your boss made a face. “Little boy?”

“He’s really adorable, Molly!” You gushed. “Like the sweetest kid out there. You know the first time he met me, he offered his own ice-cream. Who does that? I’ve seen bratty kids in my day, but he’s so smart.”

Molly laughed. “You’ll end up forever single if you keep feeding other people’s children. This is enough stuff for a whole buffet!”

“So, I know he likes pie, but I’m not sure which one he likes more- so there’s apples, cherry and cream. And since I’ll knead dough for the crust, I can make tarts out of what remains. Then there’s cream cheese and eggs for the cheesecakes- both blueberry and marshmallow topped.” You counted off your fingers. “He loved the cookies last time, so there’s chocolate chip and coconut and butter cookies. If I have leftover ingredients, I think I can fit in muffins. I might have to use my neighbor’s oven…” you mused, too excited to stop bouncing as you juggled the desiccated coconut box in your hand.

“Any man should be so lucky to be treated this way,” Molly snorted. “I swear, Y/N, at this rate you’ll probably spoil the shit out of them when you have your own kids.”

The coconut box slipped out of your hand and fell to the floor.

“Oh, shucks!” Molly bent down to pick it up. “I told you not to dance around so much. Here, put this in your bag.”

She tucked the box inside her tote. 

“Have fun,” Molly waved. “If there are leftovers, I’m calling dibs.”

On your way back, you passed by Sam’s office. The door was locked from the outside. It was Monday, so Sam would be in SF now. You mailed your resume to Acton Gris first thing after getting back home on Sunday. Chase might’ve been bluffing about it, but there was no harm in trying, right? After all you had the experience to show. Thinking about Acton Gris made you think about Sam again. He had been very straight forward in the lecture today, barely interacting with students, which wasn’t like him. Later, while returning from the grocery store, you saw him across the quad and waved to him. For a split second his face had lit up, before it fell. He had nodded and then turned the other way. Maybe he was busy.

Falling into the well-worn motions of baking was easy enough. All you had to do was put on some music and let it divert your mind. By the time the first pie was out of the oven and the first cheesecake was in the refrigerator, you had managed to bring back your earlier enthusiasm. Kevin and Jack making fun of each other in the living room helped even more.

“Who’s this kid anyway?” Kevin asked. “Y/N never treats _us_ this well.”

“Have you considered maybe it's cause we don’t deserve it?”

“No, I have not considered it and I won’t either.”

“I’m sorry about messing up your secret relationship, Jack,” you said, coming out with a huge bowl of cookie dough. “I seriously didn’t know Claire hadn’t said anything about it at home.”

Jack shrugged, looking up from his book. “It was some good drama. I’m just glad I wasn’t around to see it. Claire was laughing about it later.” He got the dopey look while talking about his girlfriend.

The doorbell rang. You put the bowl on the table, and rushed to the door, wiping your hands on the front of your apron. Alex stood at the doorsteps with Max in front of her. She looked wary and he looked downright suspicious.

“Hi, please come in,” you smiled. On the sofa, Jack straightened himself into a sitting position. He smiled and waved at Alex, who grudgingly smiled back. 

She took a seat on the couch, Max sticking close to her.

You offered them both cookies from the batch that had just come out. Alex picked one with a smile, but Max was still stiffly sitting next to her. 

“I’ll be right back,” you smiled at them, Max particularly. The tarts were ready. It was time to put in the last batch of muffins and you would be done for the day. The kitchen was the biggest mess and would probably take hours to clean, but you already knew it was all worth it. 

When you got back to the living room, Jack had managed to engage Alex in a civil conversation. You offered her a bag of cookies. “Please take these home for your mom and sister.”

Alex took the bad happily. She hugged Max and passed him a small mobile.

“His dad will pick him after work, around six?” Alex told you. “He’ll call first.”

“That will be fine. Max can stay here as long as he wants,” you reassured.

Max, however, was starting to look unsure. You realised that it had to do with Kevin and Jack being there. Your suspicion was verified when once Alex left, Max started shadowing you, staying close to your leg. He really didn’t like any strangers- except for you apparently. 

“Max, these are my friends, Jack and Kevin,” you introduced. “And guys, this my sweetest friend, Max. You could learn a thing or two about manners from him.” 

Jack, who had been trying to steal the cookie dough, yanked his hand back. “Dammit!”

Kevin shushed him. “You can’t swear in front of him, you fucking idiot!”

Jack’s jaw dropped. “You- You just said the F-word! What the hell?”

You slapped your hand to your forehead. Next to you Max laughed in his quiet voice at their exchange.

“Listen, Max, please don’t tell you dad,” Kevin pleaded. “I don’t want him to ban you from seeing Y/N because of us.”

“Yeah, don’t tell your babysitter either. I’ve only had one decent conversation with her!” Jack wailed. 

“Dad says words are only words if you don’t hurt someone with them,” Max said. “He says words aren’t bad, they become bad only when they hurt others.”

Jack and Kevin exchanged looks. 

What a profound thing to say! 

Some diversion was provided when Meg returned with Cas. While she was surprised to see Max, Cas greeted him warmly. This time Max actually hugged your side. You made another round of introductions but were sure not to leave Max by himself. These were too many strangers for him, he was bound to feel overwhelmed.

As it turned out, Cas had a set of jenga blocks stashed in his apartment. It took no effort to break the ice after that. Everyone except Cas and Max sucked. They barely went around four rounds before the thing came crashing down. Max was both very nimble and very sure when it came to removing the pieces. You asked him if he’d played jenga before to which he shook his head.

Taking your time, you served the pie pieces leisurely. Everyone loved the cheese cakes and cream pie more, but Max was loyal to cherry and apple. He very politely told you that the pie was good and that he loved it. In fact, he abandoned the game completely to concentrate on the pie.

“Oh, Y/N,” Cas said in between bites. “Thanks for lending me your book. I was too scared to touch it, so I didn’t actually read out of it. It’s in my bag.”

“Anytime!” You carefully pulled out the book from his bag and hugged it close. One of the only two things from you past that you still had with you. You’d be lying if you said being away from the book hadn’t given you some anxiety, but Meg really wanted to show it to Cas and you couldn’t have said no.

“Can I see?” Max asked with a respectful eagerness.

“Sure.”

He ran his fingers over the pages, turning them over reverently. Even though a part of your soul resided in that book, you weren’t for a second scared that Max would ruin it. 

Leaving him there, you decided to get a head start on the cleaning. Max was comfortable with the others now, he would keep busy with them. However, as soon as you tied the apron around your waist, Max followed you to the kitchen, your book still in his hand.

“Can I sit here?” He pointed to the bar counter of the kitchen.

“Sure, but don’t you want to play with them?”

He shook his head. “I’ll sit here and read.”

You looked at him in surprise. “You want to read _‘To kill a mockingbird?”_

“Mhmm… it’s my favorite book.”

“Max, how old are you?”

“Six and a half… a little more,” he said. “I’ll be seven next year.”

“And _that_ is your favorite book?”

He climbed on to the bar with the help of the chair. “Yeah. My dad reads to me from it sometimes.”

That was very forward. You wondered just how much of the book Max actually understood.

“Who’s your favorite character?” You asked, starting to assemble all the dirty utensils.

“I like Boo and I like uncle Jack. He’s cool like my uncle.”

“I like Boo Radley, too,” you told him. “He’s pretty awesome, yeah. And I like Atticus. Did you know I’m studying to be a lawyer? I wanna be just like Atticus.”

“My dad’s like Atticus,” he said.

The frank honesty on difficult topics, being a lawyer and a single father- Max’s dad was starting to sound a hell lot like Atticus to you as well.

“So who else is in your family?”

He chewed on his lower lip. “There’s my dad and aunt and uncle. They live in another state. I want a dog, but dad won’t let me have one. He says I can only get a dog when I’m old enough to look after it. He says he can’t look after the two of us.”

“Aw. I hope you can convince your dad to get you one soon. Maybe you can get your uncle to help.”

Max pouted. “He’s allergic to dog hair.”

You couldn’t help the small smile on your lips. Dean was allergic to dog hair as well. At least that’s what he’d always maintained anyway. Sam had pestered and begged to get a dog as a kid and Dean just hadn’t budged. 

In return, you told Max about your family. How you had a grandma who had loved you and raised you and that she was the reason you could bake anything at all. You also told him about your cousin and aunt.

“That’s it?” Max frowned, his scarred lip jutting out. 

What was the point in hiding anything from this kid?

“Well, I also have a best friend. He’s a lot more than that... but we weren’t together for a long time and I’ve only just met him again,” you said. “And I kind of sort of have an older brother?”

Somehow Max was easy to talk to. You told him about your favorite part of the book and why it was your favorite book. His face lit up at the small commonality that you seemed to share and you noticed that he hugged the book a little closer. 

He talked more freely today, about Alex and his aunt Jody. The more he talked, the more you realised that Max didn’t really have many friends his age. Hell, he seemed so much older than his years, but physically, he was a slight build. From his stories, you also gathered just how big a part of his life his father was. Max’s face would light up when he talked of his dad… It was love so strong that it bordered devotion. This was the way a kid would talk about his closest friend or even an older brother he simply idolised. Max’s dad was everything to him. 

You couldn’t have been more baseless about your assumptions that Max was being physically abused by his father. In fact, the sheer confidence in Max’s voice that his dad could do no wrong, made you yearn for your own dad. You didn’t remember much of his face, neither did you think of him very often, but like Max’s dad, he had been a lawyer and you knew he had loved you very much.

It sure stroked your curiosity to know more about this man. You tried to get Max to talk about his dad, but when it came to anything defining, like where he worked exactly or what his name was, Max invariably changed the subject. You figured maybe he was just possessive of his father, which was natural considering they were all that they had.

Max never spoke of his mother or what had happened to her, nor did he say a word about the scars.

You were deep in discussion about which pie had actually turned out better, when Max’s phone rang. As he hurried to pick it up, you checked the clock. It was 7:30. Where had the time flown?

“No no… I’ll come,” Max was speaking on the phone. “Just wait by the swing, okay?”

Max’s dad must have said something funny because Max laughed. “Okay. I’ll see you soon.”

“You have to go now. Don’t you?” Your voice trailed sadly. The kitchen was spotless. The chores hadn’t felt like chores at all in his presence. 

You had already packed a piece of the pie, some muffins and cookies for Max to take home. Untying your apron, you went to stand by him. “Here’s a little something for you and your dad. Maybe if we keep him fed and happy, he’ll let you come more often, huh?”

“Do like having me around?” The utter vulnerability in his wide, brown eyes was heartbreaking.

“Oh, you darling boy,” you said, taking his small face in both your hands. “Who could _ever_ not like having you around? You are so _precious._ ”

Hesitantly Max reached out and circled his arms around your waist. “Thank you, Y/N.”

The back of your throat burned and you felt tears prick the sides of your eyes. The warmth that swept through you wasn’t unfamiliar, but you hadn’t felt it in years- this fierce protectiveness. Dipping your head, you kissed the top of his head.

“I’m working tomorrow, but you’ll come the day after, right?” Your voice was husky.

Max nodded against your stomach. “I promise.”

“Alright, let’s get you to your dad.”

“No!” He wriggled out of your embrace. “You don’t need to bother. He’s down in the playground. I can find him.”

“It’s no bother at all.”

“Really,” Max grabbed the bags. “He’s right there. I can find him.”

For whatever reason, he didn’t want you to meet his dad. As long as you knew he was safe, it shouldn’t matter to you, right?

“Let me, at least, see you to the gate. Please?”

You added your number in his cellphone and made him promise to have his dad text you when Max found him. He seemed to be okay with that. 

Outside, Kevin was in the balcony, speaking over the phone and Jack was dozing in the armchair. You adjusted the afghan over him so he wouldn’t be cold. The jenga was abandoned and Meg and Cas were nowhere to be seen.

You lead Max through the lobby and the meadow, stopping at the gate. “Off you go, little guy!” You ruffled his hair. He leaned into your palm for just a moment, eyes closed, like he was savouring the feeling. “Day after tomorrow, then?”

He smiled. “Soon.”

With one wave, he carefully crossed the road and sprinted into the garden. You watched him disappear beyond the trees with a feeling that was very close to yearning and regret mixed together. All the lightness of the evening disappeared, replaced by a sudden weariness. It came with the absolute realisation- Inconceivably and impossibly soon, Max had become a part of your life. It would hurt to be separated from him now.

* * *

Sam sat in the grass with his legs folded. The dampness was soaking through his pants, darkening the fabric. It didn’t bother him. His eyes were trained on the gate of the playground. 

After minutes and minutes of waiting, Max came through… not from the side he had expected, but from the other side. Clever.

Max had a huge grin plastered on his face and his eyes were twinkling with happiness. A big paper bag was swinging in his hands as he came to a stop right in front of Sam.

“You had a good time, I’m guessing,” Sam said. Max nodded promptly. He offered the bag to Sam and the delicious smell of bakery wafted from it. It was almost irresistible.

“My friend sent these for you.”

“That’s very sweet of her.”

“She’s the best!” Max proclaimed.

“So what did you do?” Sam asked.

“We played jenga.”

“Did you win any games?”

“All of them.”

“What did you eat?”

“We had pies and tarts and cakes and muffins.”

“And did you thank Y/N for inviting you over?”

“Of course I did.”

It took a second, then Max bit his lip, eyes going wide.

Sam couldn’t help his own tired smirk. “Son, did you really think I wouldn’t recognise those cookies the moment I tasted them?”

Max looked abashed, the glow of the afternoon’s excitement fading very quickly from his face. He scrunched his eyebrows and looked down, scowling at the grass.

“Come here,” Sam said, opening his arms. After a moment of stillness, Max deflated and went into them, sitting in his lap, cheek pressed into his chest. Sam tucked his neck above Max’s head.

“You’re my boy,” Sam said. “You think I would send you into just anyone’s house without knowing who it was or making absolutely sure they wouldn’t harm you in any way?”

“So you aren’t angry with me?” Max’s voice was small and worried.

“Of course not.” He paused. “I’m hurt that you didn’t tell me about it.”

“How long have you known?” Max muttered.

“Almost from the very start.” Sam had sensed something was off about Max right off the bat, from the moment he had asked about Y/N after returning from the camp. Later, Sam had called Alex to ask her what had happened and she had told him about the girl from a building next to the playground. It could have been anyone else of course, but Sam had a few guesses. The cookies just confirmed his suspicions.

“So why didn’t you tell me?”

Sam shook his head. “The question, Max, is why didn’t _you_ tell me? I waited for you to come to me. Instead, you lied about the cookies. Made up something about girl scouts.”

“You wouldn’t have let me see her,” Max burst out. 

Sam sighed, his head hurt and heart ached for what he was about to do. “It’s because you _shouldn’t_ see her, Max. She’s someone from my past who doesn’t know you or about you.”

Max slid back and dropped on the ground.

“She said she likes me!”

Sam tried to keep his voice as gentle as he could. “I’m not contesting that. Of course she likes you. You’re a _great_ kid… but that doesn’t mean she’s ready to be a part of your life. Or have you as a part of hers.” Even _I’m_ not a part of it.

Tears rolled down Max’s cheeks. He could see where this conversation was going. Sam’s heart broke for his little boy, but after what Meg had said yesterday, it was even more necessary that Max stay away from Y/N.

“Liking and wanting are not the same thing,” Sam said. “Neither are liking and loving.”

“You don’t know,” Max insisted stubbornly, getting to his feet. He wiped his tears furiously. “You don’t know!”

“Don’t I?” Sam whispered quietly. He reached out again, but this time Max glared at him, not coming close. 

Sam raised his voice a bit more. “I let you spend the evening with her, didn’t I? That’ll be it. No more meeting her from now on.”

Max looked appalled. “I _promised_ her that I would visit the day after.”

“A no means a no, Max. You know that!”

Max broke down completely. “You’re being mean! I don’t want to talk to you.” He sobbed on the last word and then broke into a run, heading out of the ground. Sam followed after him, calling again and again, but Max didn’t stop till he was home and in his room. The door reverberated off the frame as he shut it loudly behind him. 

“Max!” Sam banged. “Open the door.”

“Go away,” came the muffled yell. 

Sam didn’t go away. He slid to the ground, his back against the door. 

“Am I not enough for you?” He whispered. How was he going to explain it to a kid so small that Y/N wasn’t the mom he was searching for, she didn’t have it in her heart to be that. Y/N hadn’t even faced her own loss to move past it and open her heart for someone else. 

Sam felt helpless and alone- unable to comfort his son and unable to pick himself up. 

The phone that Max carried, beeped in Sam’s pocket. Through blurry eyes, he read the text message.

_*Hi, this is Y/N. Just texting to confirm that Max reached safely.*_

Sam typed a quick reply. _*Yes. Thank you very much for having Max over. He had a great time.*_

He couldn’t take it anymore. Sam switched off the phone and pushed it to one side.

Today, he missed _his_ Y/N more than ever. If only he could wrap his arms around her… she would have reassured him that things would be alright. And Sam would have believed her, he would have believed his wife. He leaned back on the carpet in front of Max’s door, seeing her face behind his closed eyes. She was so close and still so far.

Tomorrow morning, he’d see her in class and pretend everything was okay. He would have to. For tonight, he could allow himself the freedom of saying those words to himself- loudly and clearly.

_I miss you, Y/N. I miss you so damn much._


	26. Chapter 26

Chase had been shooting glances at Sam all through the morning. He had looked especially alarmed when Sam had taken a colder tone in the courtroom. No one in Acton Gris recognised that tone… for them, Sam was the most polite lawyer to have ever existed. The jokes about the most genteel lawyer on earth were endless. Not for Chase… he’d been with Sam for far too long- he had seen Sam at his callous best. In fact, the alarm on his face had reminded Sam to tone it down. For everyone else it would be a good day at court- a case won, more money for the firm.

So when Chase huffed in the car, on the drive back home, Sam knew what was coming.

“Are you going to spit it out or do I have to drag it out of you?”

Sam sighed. Chase wasn’t going to let this go. He never did. Half truths would have to do.

“Max is mad at me.”

Chase blinked. “That’s all?”

“That’s more than enough.”

“Get him a new book!”

“It’s not that easy.” Sam had fallen asleep in front of Max’s door on Monday night, and woken up before Max had opened it. In their home, Sam helped Max get ready not because Max wasn’t capable of doing it himself, but because he liked Sam running his bath or packing his lunch. As terrible as the reason behind it was, Max had been self sufficient since day one. Letting Sam brush his hair was Max’s way of loving and being loved. 

Tuesday morning Max had packed his bag by himself. He’d put on the clothes that Sam had ironed for him without a word and walked to school stiffly. Sam had raised his hand to wave a goodbye at the gate, Max hadn’t turned to look. 

The day was bleached out of its color for Sam. Added to that, Sam had to go back to ignoring Y/N just like the first day. It was the last straw and it left him bleeding somewhere on the insides. Had she noticed that his attempt was deliberate? _I can’t go back to not talking,_ she’d said and Sam had confidently assured her that they could be friends. But if being friends was hurting her… Meg had said… 

“I thought it was something to do with Y/N,” Chase said out of the blue. 

Sam looked at him sharply. “Why would you think that?”

“I know that look. You’re heartbroken.”

It annoyed Sam to no end that Chase knew him _that_ well. It sucked.

“He’s just a kid and smart one at that,” Chase said in a reassuring voice. “He’ll get over it.” 

“I sure hope so.”

Wednesday was even worse. Max was surlier than usual. Sam knew it was because of Max’s promise to Y/N that he would visit today and now he couldn’t keep that promise. Sam had expected for at least some of Max’s anger to cool down, but nothing had worked so far- not lures of more books or toys, not even the temptation of a phone call to his uncle Dean. Max would have never said no to that. He adored Dean and Jo. Sam hadn’t pushed too much. Getting them involved would mean having to come clean about Y/N. Sam wasn’t sure Y/N could handle it… hell, he didn’t know if Jo could handle it, either, especially now.

Alex had known something was wrong, but once Sam instructed her to not let Max out of her sight- in case he decided to make a run for Y/N’s house like the other day- she hadn’t questioned further. It was unlikely, but Sam couldn’t take that risk. As it turned out, Max locked himself in his room first thing after coming back from school. All of Sam’s persuasion wasn’t enough to bring him out… not till the text message. 

At 6:30 sharp, Y/N had texted on the spare phone, making sure that Max was alright, since he was supposed to visit and he hadn’t. Max had uttered one _please_. When Sam had shaken his head and texted back a curt _‘yeah, he’s okay’_ Max stormed back into his room.

Again, with a raging fierceness, Sam missed Y/N and her soft reassurances- just like he always missed her when it came to raising Max, when it came to deciding what was good for him. She would have made a wonderful mother with her surety and pureness. She would have always known what the right thing to do would be.

Sam wasn’t sure- he was always grappling and second-guessing every decision he took on Max’s behalf, always wondering if he was doing the right thing. Tonight, the self-doubt was worse than ever. After all, if meeting Y/N made Max _that_ happy, and she was so concerned about his safety, how could their friendship be a bad thing? And how was keeping them away from each other not a horrifying mistake that Sam was making?

Next second though, his brain reasoned with the logical answer. Y/N hadn’t even processed the loss of their baby. He’d seen the damn shutters come down if he so much as came close to mentioning the past. In that case, if she accidentally found out that Max was Sam’s son, she might just fall off the edge into God knows what awful darkness she was harbouring within her. Worse, if that happened in front of Max, what would he tell his boy? 

No, he clearly couldn’t risk it for both their sakes. He would have to tell her about Max soon, but before that, he needed Max to understand that he couldn’t think of Y/N as his mother. It was too cruel to her. She didn’t deserve to be thrust into such a role after what she’d been through and Max didn’t deserve anything less than completely devoted love of a mother after what he’d been through.

Sam’s life was the worst kind of tragedy where people he loved were being hurt and all he could do was be swayed around, making decisions that hurt them further- as if he was a marionette being dragged around by a vicious puppet master.

That night, after a hasty dinner, when Max had gone to bed, Sam did something he’d never done before. He opened a bottle of beer and collapsed on his porch steps, looking into the sky- not seeing the stars that should have been there but remembering the day he had first laid eyes on Max.

* * *

**31st December 2011**

“Mr. Winchester, there’s a call for you,” Stacey said in her usual unsure voice. One of these days she was going to get from Sam for being so underconfident. He didn’t look up from the papers.

“Who is it?” His voice showed irritation. Shouldn’t she have already told him who was calling without him having to ask? If she kept it up, Sam would end up firing her, too. She would be the fifth in a year.

“It’s from Mr- Mr. Hartford,” she stuttered, “About that pro bono case.”

Sam put his black obsidian pen down, slowly meeting her scared gaze. “How many times do I have to tell you I don’t do pro bono.”

“But Mr. Hartford-”

“Ask Hartford to suck it up. If he’s feeling so charitable, he can take up the case himself.”

She looked like she wanted to insist, but his glare had her retreating back.

Sam got back to the papers at hand. The case wasn’t particularly interesting, just one rich guy mad about another rich guy trying to get richer. Sam didn’t care either way, so long as he got to be rich as well. He had more money than he knew what to do with, a bigger house than what he knew to live in. Maybe it was part and parcel of living in LA.

“Mr. Winchester!”

Sam had to close his eyes and take a deep breath before replying in a low, strained voice. “What now, Stacey?”

“It’s Mr. Hartford again, he’s insisting.”

She sounded scared, but Sam had no pity for her. “For the love of- “ He started in a severe voice when someone else interrupted.

“Mr. Winchester, I got the file for you.” A newbie, who couldn’t have been more than a year or two out of law school was standing before him with a file in his hands. “You should take a look.”

If Sam’s temper had flared before, now he was on the verge of blowing up. How dare a random kid from the junior associate pool just walk into his office like that? For this, Stacey was definitely getting fired.

“Look,” the guy said, his green eyes twinkling. “Mr. Hartford is making the biggest mistake letting this case go. I don’t think you should pass it up.”

“Why?” Sam asked, voice dangerous. If this kid wanted to get fired as well, it was his funeral.

“Because Ralph Simmons is a big deal, okay? He’s produced a lot of really dumb romcoms, but they’ve all made big money. The case currently has a pro bono standing because the police are still investigating a crime angle and the suspect has no inheritance yet. The moment he gets the inheritance, you bet he’ll pour all the money into walking free.”

“Is this the homicide from the papers?” Sam wanted to bang his head. Pro bono and criminal? That was the worst combination in the history of losses. He wasn’t stupid.

“Yeah,” the guy insisted, weirdly excited and confident. Sam recognised something of a fervor that only recent graduates harboured. Two more years and he’d probably turn just as callous as Sam was.

“You have two minutes to convince me _why_ I should put my time into this.”

“Okay,” the newbie started, breathing in and out, visibly prepping himself. Despite his mood, Sam found himself trying not to smile.

“One minute, fifty three seconds.”

“Right, sorry,” the guy said, “Okay, so Ralph Simmons, a movie producer and his on and off girlfriend were found murdered in their penthouse, on the morning of 26th December. Murder weapon was probably a knife. It’s the best guess- nothing was found on the crime scene. The bodies were discovered by the maid when she showed up for her shift. Said girlfriend was a meth addict, so the prime suspects are narrowed down to two- Simmons’ younger brother Kirk, and the girlfriend’s drug dealer, some guy called Jay Holler.”

“What’re we going to do in this?” Sam asked. “I’m assuming the potential client is this Kirk chap, who doesn’t have his brother’s inheritance yet.”

“Yes and no,” said the newbie. “Kirk will eventually end up becoming the nominee for the estate. He’ll pay a boatload to clear himself from this mess, that’s for sure.”

“A mess is exactly what this is,” Sam said, dismissively. “I’m not going to dirty my hands with a crime investigation. What do I care if Kirk gets it or not. Should’ve thought before butchering his brother and the girl.”

“Kirk has a believable alibi,” Green-eyes insisted. “The drug dealer’s got to be the one.”

“Then I don’t see the point of this case at all,” Sam said, picking up his pen. “Why is the firm offering to do this pro-bono for a rich jerk anyway?”

“Because it’s not just Kirk,” said the guy. “He might become the nominee for the estate, but he’ll never _own_ the estate. It’s a lot of money. I’m talking ten million in just liquid assets. Throw in that penthouse in LA and his property in NY, I’m sure the number goes further up. It’ll go to Simmon’s four year old son. Right now, the firm is taking up the case on his behalf. Even if Kirk gets out of this, he’ll file a suit for the ownership of the property, not the guardianship till the boy turns eighteen. We’re looking to protect him from that.”

“There’s a boy? What happened to the mother?”

The junior huffed out a breath, finally catching Sam’s undivided attention. “His name is Max Simmons. He’s kind of the sole witness to the ordeal. Turns out the on and off girlfriend was his biological mother. Not much of a real mother if you ask me. She would be gone for days at a stretch, leaving the boy in no one’s care. One of the maids on the cleaning crew fed him when she could find him-”

“ _When_ she could find him?” Sam asked, frowning.

The junior’s face turned slightly green. “I’ve only read the maid’s deposition and those of some other women Simmons kept around. The boy was very shy. It’s a big house, and to keep away from the raves and parties and god knows what all, he had taken to hiding in parts of it, for hours at a time, and days. The hiding probably saved his life that night. The maid found him sleeping in a wardrobe on a different floor.”

A roiling disgust went through Sam at the image, and he shuddered.

“Where’s the kid now?” 

“In the hospital,” the junior said. “Looks like he’s been a victim of abuse. There’s a broken limb…” he trailed off.

Sam didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Let me get this straight,” Sam said. “I’m doing this pro bono, so the kid, the only biological hair of that asshole Simmons gets the entire property, right?”

“Yep, that’s about it,” he said. “You can choose if you want to tackle Kirk as well. Represent him and get him out of the jail. Like I said, he’ll pay when he lands money.”

“I’m not going to let him land the money,” said Sam, getting up from his chair and reaching for the coat. “What hospital did you say the kid was in?”

The guy told him.

“So you’re taking the case?”

“What do you think?” Sam countered, pulling on the coat.

“I think you are,” the junior said, running his fingers nervously through his long blonde hair. “But also you kinda have to. The reason Mr. Hartford was assigning you the case is because of direct orders from Mr. Johnson.”

Sam raised his eyebrow. If the name partner wanted you to work a case, you worked the goddamned case. This blond punk knew that Sam wouldn’t be able to decline, but even then he’d gone through a whole process of explaining it to Sam. Had to give him credit for the sheer nerve. He almost got himself fired. 

“Next time lead with that, kid,” he said, almost smiling.

“Where’re you going?” the junior asked, relieved that he was keeping his job.

Sam turned at the door of his office, throwing out his hands. “To work your damn case.”

************

The hospital staff apparently knew a lawyer when they saw one. It was a shitty, ill-maintained, stained-bed hospital and must have been breaking several civil codes for them to draw up such a flurry of activity suddenly at his appearance. 

Sam asked for the kid at the front desk and was promptly led down the hall and into a small room.

“He’s really very traumatised, Sir” the nurse said, fretfully. “ _Please_ be kind to him.”

For a second, Sam started. The nurse wasn’t just scared for the boy, she was also scared of him- Sam.

Something about her expression bothered him- it reminded him of Stacey. Is this how everyone reacted to him now? With distrust and fear? Did he intimidate everyone?

Sam nodded at her curtly and she backed away, still lingering by the door as Sam pushed it open. 

The boy was small, smaller even for a kid his age. Sam had expected him to be asleep, or lying on the bed, but the boy was sitting in the corner of the room, on the floor, hands cradling his knees to his chest, staring straight at the door with a blank look on his face.

Something lurched inside Sam. His heart picked up double speed and his breathing became drawn. Sam knew the look on the boy’s face, and he also knew what was happening to him, why he wasn’t able to breathe- panic attack. 

Clutching the doorframe, Sam steadied himself, not allowing this feeling to get him down on his knees. It hadn’t happened in years now, not since that first year after Y/N had left, anyway. Then why now?

Even as he questioned himself, Sam knew the answer- it was _that_ look on the boy’s face, blank- like he was vacant inside, like no one lived in the body. Sam wanted to turn around and run, to never see this look on anyone’s face ever again. The other part of him wanted to fall on the ground and let the agony- one which he had successfully kept at bay for so long- rip through him. So much for running away from that feeling. Now that it had caught up to him, Sam was crippled.

The nurse cleared her throat behind Sam and it gave him something to hold on. He couldn’t fall apart in front of her. 

Slowly, he made his way towards the corner where the boy sat. A flicker went behind the boy’s eyes, and he burrowed further into his corner. It was a flicker of fear, but to Sam, it was one string of hope. The boy wasn’t completely gone, he still felt things, he was still capable of living. 

“Hi, Max,” Sam said as gently as he could. “My name’s Sam. I’m a friend of Julie’s.”

Julie was the housemaid at Simmons. During the car ride, Sam had read through her deposition back and front. Julie appeared to have been the _only_ person to have been kind to this little boy. His upbringing was a shitshow. The mother, Kathy, had been a drug addict all her life. Little was known about her background except she was a runaway, disowned by her single mother who had passed away a few years back. Sam had been on the block long enough to know better than to judge addicts- they were simply sick people, who deserved help in most cases. With Kathy, however, he judged her for being a horrible mother. In all likelihood, the only reason she had chosen to keep Max, was to have leverage against Simmons- to siphon his money under the pretext of child support. With that money, she went off with other men for days, not knowing or caring what happened to her son.

Simmons on the other hand- if it was possible- was even worse. Rave parties? Orgies? It all happened in the penthouse. Max was mostly forgotten, left at the mercy of the housemaids. It was at their discretion that he was fed, bathed or cared for at all. Most of them did it out of pity, Julie was probably the only one who did it out of care. On the days when she worked, she taught Max how to read. Sam’s nails had left bloody crescents in his palm as he’d read through the deposition in the car.

It wasn’t the right thing to lie to the kid, but it was the only way Sam knew, so he tried again. “Julie asked me to get you this.” Sam handed him a bar of chocolate. Thankfully, Max reached out to grab it, then drew back into himself.

Sam couldn’t begin to comprehend the damage inflicted on the kid’s psyche. He didn’t understand what a mother or a father were supposed to be. Or that kids are supposed to be cared for, that this is not how other children in the world were raised. That cupboards and wardrobes aren’t places to live in. Max, Sam realised, understood physical pain as a way of instruction. Someone, Kathy, Simmons or Kirk was in a habit for physically abusing this kid. Wasn’t the broken arm proof enough? Julie hadn’t witnessed it happening and Max wouldn’t talk so that part was guess work.

Meanwhile, Max had torn open the wrapping and was hungrily eating the bar. For the first time, Sam took in his entire appearance. Max’s hair was dark brown, falling upto his neck- dirty and matted. The skin underneath was light brown and patchy, with lighter spots on his cheeks. Deficiency, Sam realised with another stab. His body was grimy. No one at the hospital had even bothered to change him out of his clothes which smelled of waste. Either it was that, or Max hadn’t let anyone touch him.

Sam thanked some lucky star that Max hadn’t actually witnessed the murders, neither had he seen the bodies. He’d been discovered much later and directly driven here. There was no statement yet. The police had shirked off the duty, waiting for a lawyer to show up and do their dirty work.

Sam got to his feet.

“Hello?” He called and the waiting nurse came in. She still looked frightened and Sam wondered again if everyone was _always_ that scared of him. That hadn’t been the case before. 

“Could you please get me someone who can be talked to about his transfer?”

She nodded and rushed out.

Sam pulled out his phone and dialed his office number.

Stacey picked on the second ring, “Mr. Winchester?”

Sam made an effort to soften his voice. “Do we know where Julie Falkner is? Can you get in touch with her about seeing the boy?”

“She left town, Mr. Winchester. I just checked. Since she isn’t a suspect, it wasn’t mandated for her to remain. She had to look for a new job.”

“Damn it,” Sam swore under his breath. “Alright, listen to me. Make all the arrangements to have Max transferred to UCLA Medical centre first thing. I need it done by evening at any cost. Get someone from the junior pool to file an affidavit with the court stating that I’ll be the attorney on record, representing Max Simmons for the matter of property rights.”

“Should I add a clause about post matter fees?”

Sam paused for a minute. “Add the clause for unconditional pro bono. Bill UCLA to my account. And…” Sam hesitated, glancing at Max, who was licking the wrapper. “Do you think you can find someone, a girl perhaps, who’d be willing to wait with Max in the evening? Someone who’s had experience as a sitter or something? Don’t worry about the money.”

“Ummm… Mr. Winchester,” she said, uncertainly. “I could do it. I used to babysit in high-school and I took a child psychology class in college.

“I didn’t know that.”

“It was on my resume.”

Sam could almost hear her biting her tongue at having sassed him. It made him want to smile.

“I’ll go over in the evening and stay with him till morning.” Before Sam could tell her to take the first half off, she continued. “I’ll be at work the usual time tomorrow, don’t worry.”

Maybe Sam really was being harsh on her. Maybe she wasn’t all that bad. “That’ll be all, Stacey. Thanks.”

“That’s… you’re welcome, Mr. Winchester,” she said doubtfully.

Sam shut the phone. Had he never thanked her before?

Behind him Max was looking curiously at Sam, hunger still evident in his eyes.

“Hey,” Sam crouched down next to him. “Will you do me a favor?”

Max hid his face in his arms. 

“There’s some people coming who’ll take you to a different hospital, a better hospital. They’ll look after your arm there. They’re good people who want to help you. But they can only help you if you let them. You’re going to have to trust them, let them look at you and clean you up. And you’re going to have to eat something, alright?”

Sam hadn’t expected a reply from the boy before him, but Max blinked his frightened eyes and nodded once. 

Very carefully, so as to not frighten him, Sam offered his hand, palm facing up. “I know you don’t know me,” he said, “But I promise this Max, I’ll make sure that no will hurt you. That no one is going to touch you again… not unless you want them to. I promise.”

And like the sun breaking through the sky, Max reached out and placed his small, dirty hand in Sam’s. It looked even smaller there and unsure. Max was regarding the difference between their hands with confusion. Slowly, making his intentions perfectly clear, Sam closed his fingers around Max’s small hand. 

“I promise,” he repeated.

Sam didn’t return to his office again, instead he called his contact at UCLA medical centre, asking him to look into the case personally. To make sure that Max had access to the best doctors and that a psychologist was present there before anyone touched him. Sam was too restless to go anywhere but his apartment. The 45th storey flat was mostly all glass, leaving him to appreciate the city more fully. Having the scenery of the whole city at his beck and call didn’t make him feel any less lonely tonight or any less restless.

At half past eight, Sam found himself looking through private rooms of the pediatric ward at UCLA for the brown-eyed boy, whose face wouldn’t leave him alone. This time Max was sitting on the bed with one of the fidget toys. Two shapes had been bent and tangled within one another. Max was trying to disentangle them. Someone had washed him and dressed him in clean clothes, his hair wasn’t shaggy anymore, it fell around his face in soft brown waves. 

Stacey was sitting on a chair next to him, working on her laptop.

“Hey, Max,” Sam greeted, coming to stand by his bed.

His words snapped Stacey’s concentration and she stood up, the laptop tumbling down. Sam reflexively jerked down and caught the laptop before it hit the floor. 

“Shit! I’m so sorry Mr. Winchester, I-”

Sam was about to ask her to stop apologising when a disjointed snicker sounded from behind them. Max had watched the interaction and found the incident funny. He let go of the fidget toy and clapped his hands once.

“You wanted the laptop to break, didn’t you?” Sam asked and Max bit his lip. 

“Unfortunately, this isn’t my laptop,” Sam said, “It belongs to Ms. Gibbs, who won’t be very happy if it broke. Would you now?”

“Uhh…” Stacey seemed to be having a moment. Her eyes were travelling all the way from his jeans clad legs to the flannel. Sam realised that she really wasn’t used to seeing him outside of his suit-wearing lawyer persona. Add to that, Sam had recently gotten into the habit of wearing his glasses at work, which he’d left back home. Stacey was having a hard time adjusting the two images. Sam felt a bit bad. To her benefit, Sam smiled at her apologetically and handed her back the laptop.

It was beginning to dawn on him that maybe Stacey wasn’t the problem, maybe he was a bad boss. With that realisation, came chagrin. He vowed to do better.

“Maybe you should head home,” Sam suggested. “I’ll stay the night.”

“It’s alright, Mr. Winchester,” she said. “I don’t mind.”

“Really. It’s pointless for two people to stay. Besides, it’s the 31st of December. I’m sure you had plans, before I rudely dashed them.”

“I assure you I had nothing interesting planned for tonight.” Stacey bit her lip, then said. “Actually, you’re in a pretty good mood. I’ll just make the most of it and get some work done.”

Sam burst out laughing, so much that his eyes started to water. Yeah, he was certainly a crappy boss. When he finally stopped, he saw that not only had Stacey cracked a smile, even Max’s face was lit up, as if he wanted to smile along with Sam.

“Make yourself at home,” Sam said, gesturing towards the sofa. He took the seat next to Max. “So, buddy, what do you wanna do?”

“Help me,” Max said, thrusting the toy at Sam with his good hand. It took Sam all of three minutes to figure it out. Max was halfway there already, he would have separated the two shapes if both his hands were at his service. After the fidget toy was separated, Max pulled out a set of legos from the side table. There was a blueprint for a complicated towing truck. Sam struggled this time. He was really bad at it, but Max was patient, handing him the parts he thought would go in the hollows. The kid was very smart for his age, that much Sam understood.

Stacey interrupted a few times with work questions, making the most of Sam’s ‘good mood.’ A couple of times she also piped in helping Sam with the pieces. Together, by the time they had managed to assemble the truck, the nurses had started to point at the clock.

“You wanna head to bed?” Sam asked and Max shook his head, eyeing the other set of legos. 

“They’ll kick me out if you don’t sleep,” Sam told him. Promptly, Max slid under the covers.

Sam’s throat felt tight. How could anyone be so cruel to such a sweet child? 

“How do we get you to sleep, though?” He wondered out loud.

“Maybe you should sing to him,” Stacey said, face too straight to be believable.

Sam raised his eyebrow. “Stacey,” he said with a sigh, “If I start singing, you’ll quit faster than I can finish the first line. I’d rather you stayed.”

She giggled quietly, but didn’t look up from her laptop otherwise.

“I will spare you the awful ordeal of suffering through my singing,” he told Max. “I can read to you, if you want. Will that help you sleep?”

Max nodded, turning to his side, so he was facing Sam.

Pulling his phone out, Sam browsed through his library. Most of it was just tens and hundreds of law books, manuals, codes and such. All of a sudden, Sam’s fingers stopped scrolling through the list and his mind processed the name of the book that had landed up on his screen. It might be the only fictional book on his phone.

“Close your eyes, Max,” he said and the boy obliged.

Sam took a deep breath and began to read right from the dedication, “ _Lawyers, I suppose, were children once- Charles Lamb.”_

He paused and Max opened his eyes to see why. He could feel Stacey’s eyes on him as well. Sam nodded reassuringly at Max, waited for him to close his eyes again and then began once more, _“Chapter one. When he was nearly thirteen, my brother Jem got his arm badly broken at the elbow,” Sam read. “When it healed, and Jem’s fears of never being able to play football were assuaged, he was seldom self-conscious about his injury. His left arm was somehow shorter than his right…”_

Sam fell asleep there, on the chair, his head resting next to Max’s on the bed, the phone almost slipping out of his hand. He wouldn’t know that hesitantly, Stacey had draped her blanket over him before going back to sleep on the sofa. It must have been uncomfortable to sleep in the small chair, but it would be the first time in years that Sam slept dreamlessly. First time that he’d actually slept through the whole night.


	27. Chapter 27

** 17th January 2012 **

“Okay, Max,” Sam asked one last time, “You know what you’re going to say, right?”

Max nodded. “I was shleeping in the cupboard.”

“And if they ask you who’s hurt you?”

“Mommy and Daddy and Unca Kirk.”

Sam gritted his teeth. Those monsters didn’t deserve to becalled by those names. It had taken some coaxing from Sam’s side but he’d managed to do something that no one had uptil now, get Max to open up and tell him exactly who had been hurting him. It was some negligent shoves from Kathy and annoyed backhands from Simmons a few times, but the biggest monster was that asshole Kirk. He was an alcoholic who would fly in rages and take it all out on little Max. Sam would have to make the effort to stop himself flying across the courtroom to give it to that bastard.

The car lurched into a quick halt in the traffic and Max threw himself into Sam’s stomach, fisting his hands in Sam’s shirt. 

“Careful,” Sam warned the junior- the same blond guy who had briefed the case to him- who was driving his car. He had followed Sam around, asking to be present for this particular hearing. Sam hadn’t minded. It was especially helpful now that Max was so scared that he refused to let go of Sam.

He was the only person Max was physically comfortable with. Sam supposed it was the expected outcome, given he had spent all his nights for the last two weeks with Max in the hospital. Max would have been ideally discharged by now, but Sam was too scared that they would put him in a children’s home. So he kept paying up the money to keep him in the private room. Sam knew it was going to bite him in the ass to get so attached to a client, but this was Max! How could anyone not be attached to him? Even someone as stone-hearted as what Sam had become.

That much was true. The more time Sam spent with Max, the more he realised just how cold he’d become, how ruthless. Maybe that’s how he’d ascended so quickly up the ranks, by being insensitive and harsh. Sam had become the poster boy of a good lawyer at Johnsons. The realisation brought so much shame with it that Sam barely even wanted to leave Max’s side anymore. Because this kid didn’t look at him with fear, or even surprise when he did a halfway decent thing- the way his staff or colleagues looked at him. Max looked at Sam with the eyes of someone who trusted him completely. 

Sam’s phone rang again, flashing his brother’s name. A bout of chagrin washed through him. He didn’t pick up, just like he hadn’t for the last so many months. Sam had hoped that Dean would stop calling eventually. Even his brother would give up on Sam at some point, right? For the past years, he’d avoided Lawrence like a plague, not returning to that place, not even thinking of it. Along with that Sam had tried to escape his brother’s love. Truth be told, Sam simply couldn’t tolerate it- love, anyone’s love. Something about him must have turned Y/N away. Maybe she thought he wasn’t capable of loving her, or maybe she just wasn’t capable of loving him. Either way, Sam had come to believe that he didn’t want any of it. Because if there was one thing the whole ordeal had taught him, it was that love could break you like nothing else in the world. It could rip you apart piece by piece, slowly till the thew and sinew was drained of the last drop of blood. Over and over.

Sam wanted nothing to do with love after that.

The past two weeks had undone all of that for Sam. How could he resist feeling something for this little boy holding on to him like dear life? So now when Dean’s call rang, it was shame and regret that didn’t allow him to pick the phone. Sam couldn’t face his brother, couldn’t face the anger he knew Dean must be feeling.

For all his anger towards Y/N because she deserted him, hadn’t he done something similar to Dean?

“Are you okay?”

Max’s sweet voice took some getting used to, but Sam knew it when he heard it. And it made him feel worse knowing that this kid, who’d suffered so much in his little life, was currently facing the prospect of seeing his abuser, still had enough empathy to worry if Sam was doing okay. Sam wasn’t worth any of this.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” Sam breathed. “It’ll be okay.”

It had to be. Things hadn’t gone much in Sam’s favour with regards to the case. Kirk had been bailed out by a friend, and substantial evidence had pinned the murders on Kathy’s drug dealer. There was security footage, phone records and hell, they’d even found the murder weapon with his prints in a nearby dumpster. No reason to keep Kirk in prison.

Sam had made himself into a hostile party by pressing charges of drug abuse over and above the child abuse he had perpretrated. It sucked that the son of bitch managed to get hold of a smart lawyer. Instead of going against Max and pressing for property ownership, Kirk was now applying for full custody of Max as the only surviving relative. This was in addition to guardianship which enabled him to have an exuberant monthly allowance as the custodian, as well as complete decision-making of Max’s life. His attorney had put in the abhorrent clause that should anything happen to Max, the property in its entirety would fall to Kirk.

It had made Sam’s blood boil in the first two hearings. However, there was nothing that could be done to avoid it. All Sam had going for him was the child abuse accusations, which he had to admit weren’t looking very good right now. Still, he had to keep faith. Max couldn’t be allowed to go home with that bastard. In fact, Sam had fought tooth and nail to keep him out of the courts up until now. Unfortunately, today’s final hearing necessitated his presence. 

“I know what to say,” Max insisted, misreading Sam’s quiet. 

Sam wanted to tell him not to worry. The words just wouldn’t come out.

“You don’t think they’ll put him on the stand, do you?” The junior asked from the driver’s seat as he took the last turn towards the court. His voice sounded weak and nervous.

“Not if I can help it.”

*********

** 20th January 2012 **

“Mr. Winchester, your coffee.”

“Thanks, Stacey,” he mumbled, not looking at the cup. 

Instead of going back to her seat, Stacey lingered in front of his desk. “Sir, it’s not my place to say, but maybe you should take a few days off.”

Startled, he looked up at her.

“You’ve earned it,” she added.

“I don’t think I’ve earned anything,” he said, looking away again. He hadn’t really left his cabin in over three days, not since Max’s hearing. He had _promised_ Max that he wouldn’t let anyone hurt him, wouldn’t let Kirk take him away and he had failed miserably. 

There was proof, hardcopies of scans and x-rays to prove Max’s injuries, but nothing except Max’s word to prove that Kirk had done it. Max was barely four, and he’d even mentioned his father’s and mother’s name. The opposing counsel had pressed hard that not only was Max too young to understand what he was saying, but that Sam had been misleading him into blaming Kirk. The whole hearing had torpedoed from there. 

At first, Max couldn’t understand why they were taking him away from Sam. He’d been so sure that he would return to the hospital with Sam, to the only place where he’d truly been safe and without fear. And when Kirk had laid a hand on him, Max had flinched. He had lashed out then, not at Kirk, but at Sam, crying, calling to him like his life depended on it, accusal clear in his eyes.

Sam’s eyes stung as he looked out of the huge glass window of his office. 

“You did all that you could’ve,” Stacey said softly.

Fat load of good it did! Max’s horrified and tearstained face wouldn’t let Sam close his eyes now, let alone think of anything else.

“You’re too kind for saying that, Stacey.”

Her eyes were swimming with tears as well. 

“Let me know if there’s anything else, Mr. Winchester,” she said, turning to leave.

“Sam,” he corrected her.”Sam will do just fine.”

She nodded slowly and then went back to her seat. 

One of his co-attorneys had tried to tell Sam to let it go. What else could he have done? It was a pro bono that the firm only undertook to prove they weren’t the corporate monsters that they actually were. No one cared if Sam lost this one, it wouldn’t go up on his record. Besides, if Kirk hadn’t won custody, the child would have rotted in some boy’s home or at a foster parent’s. It was the kettle or pan for him. There was no way to win. Never had been.

If anything, those words had stung Sam even more. Would he have let that fate befall Max, if he’d had the choice?

Sam picked up his phone, not for the first time, his fingers hovering over Dean’s name. The only person he could turn to for solace, now that he felt so broken and defeated. But Sam knew he didn’t deserve the comfort. Dean and Jo were happy, he couldn’t selfishly barge into their lives with his screwups. 

Outside, Stacey’s desk phone rang, shaking Sam out of his thoughts. He put his own phone down and pushed his specs up his nose, getting to the papers before him.

Not a full minute had passed before Stacey came barreling in again, her face completely white. “There’s a call for you from the LAPD. You should take it.”

*********

“Where is he?” Sam asked sharply, when no one replied he snarled, “WHERE IS HE?”

“They have him in one of the holding cells. He wouldn’t let anyone touch him.”

It was all Sam could do to not punch the officer in the face.

“Get the papers ready to move him out of custody,” Sam barked at the junior who had followed him out of the office. He hadn’t looked twice to see who it was, as the junior scrambled to draw up the procedural form.

Sam rushed to the cell and pushed the door open with such force that it banged off the hinges, a police officer protested loudly, but Sam was beyond giving a single care. 

The room wasn’t well lit and appeared to be empty at first look. When Sam looked closer, in the shadowy corner sat a small figure with his head between his knees, arms hugging them.

Max’s arm was bleeding. His dirty shirt was stained with patches of blood and from what Sam could see of his grimy face, it was puffy and bruised.

Sam rushed to his side dropping to his knees on the ground, but Max flinched away, slashing with his hands and screaming like a feral child.

“Max… _Max!”_ Sam tried, but he wouldn’t stop. A punch landed on Sam’s cheek, another slash across his face. Despite that, Sam didn’t touch Max, and he wouldn’t unless Max wanted him to.

“Max,” he said softly. “It’s me… It’s _me_. Sam. I’m sorry.”

Max stilled, and stopped his ear piercing screaming. “You promised,” he yelled. “You promised you wouldn’t let him take me back.”

“I know,” Sam said, his voice cracking. “I know and I failed. I’m so sorry.”

“You keep saying that, but it doesn’t mean anything!” Max launched himself at Sam, hitting every part he could land. Sam’s glasses cracked against his eyebrow and Max yanked his hand back, hissing in pain. He backed into the dark corner again, crying.

“Max!” Sam instinctively moved forward, hand outstretched towards Max’s face. Seeing his hand, Max flattened himself against the wall, wiping his tears furiously with his bloody hand.

“Let me… let me just get the glass,” Sam said through his own tears. After a minute, Max slowly offered his small swollen palm. There was a piece of glass etched in his skin.

With the lightest touch, Sam pulled the piece out and Max threw himself into Sam’s chest, sobbing and blubbering. “He hurt me… he hurt me.”

“I know,” Sam gulped, feeling as helpless as he had on the day he’d lost his own child. “I’m so sorry, I couldn’t help you.”

“You said no one would hurt me.”

Sam pushed Max back just a bit, keeping a firm grip on him. “You listen to me now, Max. I swear if another thing touches you, it’s going to have to go over me.”

“They’ll take me away to a bad place with more children like me.” As he said it, Max clutched to Sam’s jacket, the bloodied fingernails leaving marks.

Sam gently placed his hand over those tiny ones. A primal need to protect this child was trying to crawl its way out of his throat to the point that Sam knew he would suffocate on it if he was separated from Max now. 

“Max,” he whispered, scared to the last atom of his being. “Do you want to come live with me?”

Max looked up at him with those dark, fearful eyes. “You’re not lying to me? You won’t just throw me out later?”

“No. God, no.” Sam took a deep breath. “I… I live by myself, and I have to be out a lot for work, but I promise you that I’ll do my best to look after you. And this time I’ll keep my word. You just have to trust me.”

Max’s wide eyes broke Sam’s heart.

“They will have to take you away for a while, to the hospital and then child services, but you have to trust me. I WILL come for you. Can you do that? Can you trust me one last time?

At long last Max gave a shaky nod. It was quick and jerky but Sam could see it in his eyes that Max was trusting him. If this time Sam couldn’t come through… he knew that this little boy who didn’t deserve any of this pain, would never trust again in his life.

For the longest moment, he simply cradled the boy, rocking him back and forth, hushing him softly on the cold floor of a colder holding cell, till his breathing eased out. Max had fallen asleep. 

The door opened and the junior who’d come with Sam walked in. Sam put a finger to his lips and then pointed at Max’s sleeping form.

The junior- the same blond, green-eyed one, who had convinced Sam to take up Max’s case- sat next to Sam on the floor and laid out multiple papers. 

“Papers to get Max out of custody that you asked for,” he whispered, going through the sets. “And this is all the stuff that you didn’t ask for, but I did it anyway- copy of the complaint we just filed against Kirk Simmons, affidavit to be filed in the court stating you as the official counsel representing Max Simmons for the matter of child abuse. I’ve called up ahead in UCLA and the ambulance is on it’s way. If you want I can draw up something against this police precinct for unauthorised confinement of a child.”

“Hold off on the last thing,” Sam said, impressed despite himself. “We don’t want to piss off the PD.”

“I’ll file the affidavit on my way back to office,” he said. “I’m assuming you’ll ride with Max in the ambulance? I’ll have Stacey call your driver and have your car follow it.”

Sam narrowed his eyes. “What did you say your name was, again?”

“I didn’t,” the junior smiled. “It’s Lincoln. Chase Lincoln.”

“There’s one more thing I need you to do, Chase.”

“Shoot!”

“Look into the adoption laws under LA’s jurisdiction.”

*********

It had been one of the longest days in his life. Sam sat next to Max again, as he dozed lightly. The doctors said most of his injuries were external and not intensive, that he would heal from them soon enough. Both Chase and Stacey had followed through on their work without a fault. The adoption itself was, however, a task. No judge in their right minds would let a single man adopt a four year old kid- too risky. Sam’s case was slightly different. For one, he knew the judges inside out, and most of them liked him- that could work in his favor. The other thing- he wasn’t exactly single. Absently, his hand, the one that wasn’t holding Max’s, reached out to tug at the chain around his neck and the ring at the end. 

There was a solution to all this, but would Y/N have wanted that?

Sam reflected back on the conversation that had actually given him hope. Once they wheeled Max for the checkups, Sam had dialed a number he hadn’t called in years.

“Hello?” The voice answered

“Hey, it’s me, Sam.”

There was a pause. “Sam Winchester?” Jody laughed. “Well, I’ll be damned. How many years has it been? Three? Four?”

“Yeah, it’s been long,” Sam sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I… I needed help with a case.”

She laughed again. “You might have completely abandoned me, but I’ve been keeping tabs on you, Winchester. From what I’ve heard, you don’t need anybody’s help.”

“Really, I do,” he said, tired. “You’re the only one who _can_ help.”

“What do you need?” She sounded suddenly focused.

“I- uh… you have two adopted daughters, right?”

“Yes,” she said. “What’s that got to do with your case?”

“Uh.. actually, I’m looking to adopt. And it’s going to be difficult I know, but, Jody, I don’t think I can go on without this kid. He’s been through so much. I know it’ll be hard because of my situation-”

“What situation?”

“I-” It was so painful to say it, still. “I got married a few years ago.”

“What?”

“I don’t know where to begin,” Sam put his face in his hand. “I don’t know how to solve this mess.”

“Sam,” she said. “We’ll find a way. I know we will. Now start from the very beginning.”

Sam spilled it all. For the first time since it happened, he poured out all the pain, all the anger. It was like a damn breaking open, years worth of anguish gushing out in torrents. He told her about Max, and how he had absolutely shattered the trust of the only person who had trusted him in these past few years.

“Damn it, Sam,” she swore. “What the fuck were you thinking dealing with all of this by yourself?”

Sam didn’t answer, he asked her the question that mattered the most. “Is there a way? Anyway for me to legally adopt Max?”

She hesitated. “There’s one thing I can think of, but it’s not the most ethical way to go about things.”

“What do you mean?”

“See, technically you’re still married. Use that to push for fosterhood. You’ll only need to submit valid proofs- marriage certificate and all that to prove you’re still married. Once that goes through, put in for adoption immediately.”

“They’ll need her signature on the adoption papers.”

“We’ll say you’ve been going through some marital discord and she’s living separately. Not a divorce, just temporary separation. Use all your influence to get a judge who likes you. I think you’ve got a spotless record, and by the time the final adoption hearing comes through, you’ll have months of fosterhood to prove that you can do damn well by yourself. You’re lucky this kid is a boy. They just relaxed the adoption of boys by single men in the state of California. If push comes to shove, we can always use that.”

Just listening to it made Sam worry. “You think that’ll work?”

“I’m positive,” she said. “It’s going to be hard, Sam. I’m not gonna lie- it’ll be very hard to pretend that you’ve still got a wife and that life is rosy. But this is the only way. It’s a lot of lying upfront, but not so much in the papers. You think you can do that?”

It wasn’t like Sam had a choice. Not keeping Max away wasn’t an option anymore. “I can do that.”

“Alright, let me come over tomorrow night, we’ll work out the papers together over the weekend.”

If Jody was framing the documents, they were bound to be faultless.

“Jody,” he said through a thick throat. “Thank you.”

“Bullshit!” She had dismissed him. “What else are friends for?”

Sitting next to Max, Sam went over and over the conversation in his head. He had done his own research, and Jody had been right. It wouldn’t take much to act as Max’s foster parent till the adoption came through. If they were smart about the paperwork, Max could come live with Sam as early as next week. Sam just could not break his promise this time. Not only because of what it would do to Max, but also because of what it would do to him as well. Sometime in the span of the last few weeks, Max had become his. It was permanent now. Making it legal would require him to use Y/N. Lie on her behalf. Would she begrudge him this? Wouldn’t she want him to have every bit of happiness that he could rake through his fingers?

She would, he decided. Y/N was kind, always had been. Even though she didn’t have a place for Sam in her life, she would have wanted him to be happy. 

It was past one in the night. Sam’s phone lit up, the screen notifying him of an incoming call. Dean.

Sam put his face in his hand, throwing a prayer out in the universe for blessing him with Dean. He just knew when Sam wasn’t doing good. He _always_ knew.

With shaking fingers and enough shame to drown him whole, Sam answered the phone.

“Sam?” Dean gasped on the other end, voice incredulous. “Jesus! I can’t believe you picked up. Are you okay?”

“No,” Sam whispered, his face crumpling. “I- I just-” words failed him.

“Hey, hey… Sammy,” Dean said, with all the love that only he could hold. “Whatever it is, we’ll get through it, okay? Together.”

Sam didn’t deserve Dean’s love, or his forgiveness, but he’d be damned if it wasn’t what he needed the most right now. 

“Okay,” he sniffed, nodding his head.

“I’m with you, man,” Dean said. “You’re going to be okay.”

Later, as Sam sat next to Max, head resting against the side of his bed, curling Max’s fingers within his own hand, something that was essentially broken inside Sam started to knit itself again. And for the first time Sam believed Dean’s words. He just might be okay after all.

* * *

Draining the last drop of beer from his third bottle of the night, Sam stumbled back inside the house, unsteady on his feet. He felt disgusted at having drank with Max still in the house. What if Max saw him like this? What would he think of his shitshow of a father?

In his addled state, he still made it to Max’s room. Tonight, thankfully, Max hadn’t locked it from the inside, so Sam could crack the door open and peer into the room. Max was sleeping on his side, tucked in his favourite gray blanket, a grimace on his face. That wasn’t acceptable.

Without making much noise, Sam slumped against the side of Max’s bed. He reached out to push Max’s curls away from his forehead, and then card his hair till the lines on his forehead smoothened out. If there was a miraculous way to ease away all of Max’s pain, Sam would do it. He knew that’s not how it worked- he had known it through the meetings with the psychologist and then the therapist. 

In the early days, Max would flinch when he accidentally broke something in the house. He knew Sam wouldn’t hurt him, but his body’s reflex was still to expect a rebuff, a hit. Sam had developed a habit of deliberately hugging Max when that happened, and then running his fingers through Max’s hair. Since then, Max had come to expect comfort when he found Sam’s fingers in his hair. Even now, asleep, Max reacted to it. His shoulders relaxed and his breathing evened out. 

Sam wanted to bend over and kiss Max’s forehead. Afraid that he would wake Max up, Sam rested his head against the mattress instead, next to Max’s hand. He didn’t mean to stay, but the day had been very long, and his head wasn’t in the right place. Before he knew it, Sam’s blinks became longer and then his eyes didn’t open.

Sam was back in the hospital and they had wheeled Y/N away. 

“I swear we found her drenched in the waters, struggling for breath. We didn’t do anything,” A mousy guy was saying in the background. “And all that blood…”

There was another man. He wasn’t saying much to the police, just looking around grimly. Sam knew he had been the one to save Y/N’s life. 

Sam wanted to fall at this man’s feet and thank him for jumping into the water and dragging his wife out but for that he would have to speak or even move. He didn’t have the ability to do any of those things right now.

Dean was there… Dean would do the talking.

The doctor came out, removing his bloody gloves. “I’m sorry, Mr. Winchester, we couldn’t save your son.”

It was like watching a montage of himself from a distance as he dropped his head in his hands and let go completely. Dean pulled him into his arms and then Jo, who was standing close by, fell into a seat with a cry.

“No… no… Chirp…”

“Chirp?” The doctor said, an indulgent smile on his face. “That’s not your son, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam blinked as the doctor’s grin got more pronounced and he wasn’t the doctor anymore, he looked like Kirk.

“I meant your real son. Max. Max is dead.”

In the distance another voice called… “Dad… dad… SAM!”

Sam woke up with a gasp. He was sitting on the floor of Max’s bedroom, still completely dressed. And Max wasn’t on the bed, he was on the floor next to Sam, tugging at Sam’s shirt. 

For a moment Sam didn’t understand what had just happened, couldn’t grasp that Max was really in front of him.

“Don’t cry,” Max pleaded. “Please don’t cry. I’m sorry,”

Without thinking, without processing what Max was saying, or why he was apologising, Sam pulled Max into his body, so that his boy was completely buried in his arms.

“Jesus! Thank God you’re okay.” Max was right- Sam had been crying, his vision was blurred with tears. _It was just a dream… It was a goddamned nightmare._ Max was safe. 

The muffled voice made Sam loosen his grip just enough for Max to be able to speak. “I promise I won’t ever ask to see Y/N again,” he said, in a watery voice. “But don’t cry. Don’t… I’m sorry.”

Sam was slow, but he caught on quickly, making the link of what Max would have made of his tears. 

“No. Max… I’m sorry,” he whispered urgently. “I didn’t want to be harsh. God- I don’t know how to tell you, but it’s not the right time. You’ve… you’ve got to trust me, man. You’ve just got to go with me on this one.”

“Okay.” Max said. “Whatever you say. I love you.”

The clock softly chimed five jingles to indicate the time of the morning. Sam was grateful. He was grateful that Max _wasn’t_ grateful. As odd as it sounded, Sam never wanted Max to feel gratitude towards him. Max didn’t think Sam had done him a favor by adopting him and that he owed it to Sam to behave well. He didn’t feel guilty for throwing a tantrum the way a foster kid might after being bratty. No, Max wasn’t grateful… he was sorry. Sorry because he thought he’d hurt his father. Sorry because he couldn’t stand Sam being in tears. Sorry because he loved Sam.

Sam kissed the top of Max’s hair. 

“I love you, too, kid. More than you’ll ever know.”


	28. Chapter 28

It wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be, but it was still pretty terrible. Actually, it was more than pretty terrible. Jack and Kevin were bummed about it at first, but the extra cookies cheered them up. You, on the other hand, spent the evening on the balcony, staring dejectedly at the house plants. It didn’t help that Meg was starting to spend most of her time in Cas’s apartment rather than yours.

You knew it was irrational but you couldn’t help being mad at Max’s dad. Couldn’t he have at least called or messaged beforehand to let you know Max wouldn’t be able to make it? Your follow-up text asking whether they could reschedule had gone unanswered.

_What a jerk!_

Deep down you knew that even if Max’s dad _had_ informed you earlier, you would still have been just this dejected about the cancelled plan. The worst part was you couldn’t talk to anyone about this. Meg liked Max well enough. Quoting her, he was- “The only not annoying kid I’ve ever seen.” She still didn’t understand your attachment to him. Truthfully, you weren’t sure you understood it yourself. There was just something about that boy- the warmth in his eyes, or the cadence of his words… it felt so _familiar_ and you simply couldn’t figure out why. 

What sucked more was you knew exactly who you wanted to talk to, and the very person had been avoiding you. 

Sam hadn’t so much as looked at you all week. At first you thought it was work. Maybe he was caught up with a case, but you knew him well enough to know when he was stealing glances. You were the one who had started it after all, when you’d fled on him after seeing the ring. It didn’t seem likely, but maybe you had hurt him somehow?

Once you were somewhat over the shock of being still married, you had tried to apologise to Sam for your behaviour that night. Hell, you wanted a chance to actually talk to him about it. It was different before, when you thought you were broken up. Now, you wanted to ask him why he had dragged himself along a dead relationship for so damn long? The number of times he must’ve had to dodge awkward questions at events and how many women he must’ve turned down. 

For you, your choice had been sealed long back. It was either Sam or no one. Ever. Not being married wasn’t going to change that. Sam, however, needn’t have put himself through this.

If only he would just give you a chance to talk! Finding him had been close to impossible lately. He rushed out of class almost immediately and his office was always locked. You considered emailing him, but it didn’t seem appropriate.

Between missing Max and missing Sam, you were left without spirit.

The only upside was, as a distraction, you had overworked yourself into an academic head start. Molly was pleased with you picking up double shifts at the library, and your hypos were crisp and clear. Professor Wilson was surely going to be pleased about it. 

The library had become a second home to you, with it’s dark desks, rows and rows of bookshelves containing bare acts, cases, by-laws and it’s line of computers. You belonged in it and in it’s timelessness. Not much ever changed here just like it hadn’t in prior years. Personally, for you, only one thing had changed- Madison spent a lot more time in the library than she used to. You suspected that this place had become her sanctuary as well. Even though she wouldn’t say it out loud, you had noticed her avoiding Rebecca and the other girls. It was possible in college. However, it must be damn near impossible in the dorms that they all shared. And so the library had become her usual hangout. She mostly did her own thing, studying, reading and when she got bored, she would come over to chat with you.

You liked having her here- a quiet company and a genuine friend. 

Madison was also really observant.

“Rough week?” She asked, shoving a bunch of papers she had been sorting for you. It wasn’t her job, she just liked helping you.

“Pretty much yeah.”

“I’ll give you an ear if you want one.”

You huffed, “There’s this boy…”

“Ah…” she said lightly. “Boy trouble.”

“No.. no.” It was a poor choice of words on your part, obviously she jumped to conclusions. “There’s this sweet little kid- Max. I met him on the ground next to my apartment, and he’s really adorable. I had him over at my place a couple of times… that is until his dad decided not to send him over anymore.” _Asshole._

“Do you know why?”

You shrugged. “Maybe he doesn’t want his kid hanging with grown ups? Or maybe all the cookies gave him a sugar rush. I can only guess.”

Madison thought over it. “Do you know where he lives?”

You gave her the street name. 

She hummed. “Isn’t that the faculty accoms?”

“Is it?”

“I mean not officially, but a lot of the professors stay there. Including-” She didn’t complete the sentence, sidetracked by another thought. “Oh, Brad lives closeby, too.”

 _Uhg Brad._ You had avoided him left right and centre since the almost kiss. He’d tried to get you alone and you had done your best to not give him that chance.

“Are you going to his party?”

You gave her a look. “Take a guess.”

Madison laughed. “He isn’t that bad. And I think he really likes you. Now, I won’t ask you to give him a chance or anything… just go easy on him.”

He was an idiot who needed to understand the concept of boundary. 

“He doesn’t like me. He just likes the idea of dating me. To like someone, you actually need to _know_ the person. Brad doesn’t know me.”

Madison didn’t contest your words. Her eyes turned speculative. “I don’t think anyone really knows you. Not any one of us, at least.”

You laughed. “Of course, you know me. If you know the password to my phone, you know me.”

Madison let it slide. It was one of the things you liked about her- she never pushed you for information.

“Please come to that party?” She pleaded. “I said I would go, but I don’t want to go alone.”

You turned in your chair to face her with what was surely an appalled expression. “You have tons of friends there!”

“But there won’t be a _‘you.”_

You wanted to say no. After all, Madison had said yes without asking you, so she didn’t get to guilt-trip you into this one. But the pleading expression on her face was hard to say no to. Then there was the matter that you needed to get a word in with Brad about boundaries. In a place which wasn’t the lecture hall, whilst being safely surrounded by other people.

“I can see you’re considering it. Pretty please with a cherry on top? We’ll be in and out before you even know it. It’s not like I want to stick around,” she muttered darkly.

“Fifteen minutes.”

She kissed you on the cheek. “You’re the best, Y/N. I love you.”

“The only parties I’ve ever been to are because of you.” You narrowed your eyes. “You’re evil.”

“You can’t turn back. Binding verbal contract. We’ll show our faces then go out by ourselves and crash at your place later. Just you and me. I’ll get to meet the four drinks Y/N.”

You didn’t mind her teasing, A night out with Madison sounded great. It might just provide a distraction from the loop of missing Max- wanting to share it with Sam- and then missing Sam.

“Night-out is perfect.”

* * *

“Oh GAWD!” Chase didn’t just roll his eyes, he rolled his entire head. “I cannot deal with this anymore. I _physically_ cannot deal with this anymore.”

Sam had been going through the subpoenaed files by himself, without being any obstruction to whatever Chase was doing in Sam’s cabin. In fact, he didn’t even know Chase was there. 

Sam gave him a long suffering look. “What, now?” 

It was always some never-ending drama with Chase. Some girl he was mooning over. _She’s the one- she’s the love of my life_ , Chase would say. Next week, he’d repeat the exact same words for another girl, declaring that he couldn’t live without this one. His dating life actually made Sam glad he wasn’t out trying to find someone to love- as tragic as his own deal was.

“You! It’s you!” Chase ran his fingers through his hair.

Sam put the file down, staring at his friend.

“You’re depressed!” Chase announced. “And don’t you dare put this on poor Max.”

“I’m not putting anything on Max.” 

Max had been trying. More than a kid his age should’ve had to try. Still, Sam could see that he felt miserable over not getting to see Y/N. Sam wondered what could’ve possibly happened in three meetings to have Max so attached to Y/N already? With chagrin, he realised his kid had taken after his dad. Wasn’t he, Sam, himself pretty much obsessed with Y/N after seeing her for the first time in the bar?

A part of him was even jealous he never got to be there when Y/N met his boy for the first time. Hadn’t he dreamt of it for years?

“There’s that look again,” Chase whined. “You’re pining so bad. It’s awful!”

That’s it. “You know, you’re the last fucking person on the planet to lecture anyone about pining, Lincoln. It’s your part-time job. Shame you can’t make money out of it.”

Chase made a whole show out of clutching his chest. Sam waited for him to get it over with.

His friend sighed and dropped in the chair opposite Sam. “It’s different with you, man. Your girl’s right there in front of you. I tried to shut up about this and mind my own business, but sorry, I can’t anymore. _You are_ my business and I won’t have you moping all around Acton Gris like this. What the hell is stopping you?”

Sam looked down at the obsidian pen in his hand, reading the words etched on it in gold. Words that had always felt like soft reassurances under his fingertips.

He spoke in a low voice. “Remember that girl Max sneaked off to meet?”

Chase chuckled. “Sure do. That little stud.”

“Guess who in the great wide world it could’ve been?”

“No shit,” Chase swore, jumping on the thought immediately. 

Sam ran his hand over his face. “It was hard getting him to understand that he can’t see her anymore. He was so mad at me. I don’t think he’s _ever_ been that pissed with me…”

Chase was quiet for a long time. Sam could see the gears in his head turning. When he finally spoke, his voice was grave, as it rarely was. “I don’t see _why_ you should stop him from meeting her.”

It was Sam’s turn to lose it. “Max is trying to… I don’t know… _Parent trap_ this. But Y/N isn’t his mother! She doesn’t love him that way. And think about her, what would I be putting her through? I barely know where we stand… to thrust a child into her arms?” He put his head in his hands. 

“That’s not what I meant,” said Chase. “You’re getting ahead of yourself. I admit that it wasn’t ideal for them to meet the way they did, but you have the chance of turning this around. Just tell her that Max is your son.”

“And see her lose it?”

Chase shook his head. “I don’t think she will.” 

Sam looked up. 

Chase’s green eyes were determined. “From what I’ve seen of her, she’s still into you, man. More than that, she would be happy about anything that made you happy- including Max. It might be difficult to accept, but she’ll come around eventually. Also, think about what would happen if she found out about this from someone else- a professor or an over-enthusiastic student too smitten with you to dig deeper. That’s a fiasco you can’t come back from. It’s better she hears about Max from you, Sam. You aren’t asking her to move in with you and be the ever-loving mother to your son. You would only be trusting her with a part of your life- which she rightfully should know about, given how on papers she is your wife and thereby Max’s legal mom.”

There was a can of worms that Sam didn’t even know how to approach.

“And while we’re on that topic, what are you going to do about it?” Chase asked. “Just keep sweeping it under the rug? You guys need to figure your shit out… because whatever’s going on between you two, it clearly ain’t marriage.”

Like a child, Sam wanted to shut his ears on Chase’s barrage. He didn’t want to hear any of it, didn’t want to look at the ultimatum. Hadn’t Meg asked of him the same thing? ‘ _Free Y/N.’_ So he gave his friend the one reply that he had stuck to.

“If Y/N wants a divorce, she’s going to have to come to me and ask for it herself.”

To his surprise, Chase groaned loudly, pulling at his hair.

“You absolute fucking _idiot!”_

“Hey!”

Getting out of his chair, Chase started pacing in front of Sam’s desk. “I’m not asking you to get divorced! I’m asking you to get _together!_ She’s still into you and YOU-” he scoffed. “You’re the patron saint of being hung up. I want to smash your faces against each other just so you can TALK.”

There were complexities that Chase wouldn’t understand…

“And don’t do that,” Chase exploded.

“Do what?”

“Overthink yourself out of this! You always think too much about others. Have you ever considered that maybe thinking about yourself might actually solve the fucking problem for once?”

“But her roommate, Meg, said that she’s all over the place after seeing me!”

“Who the hell is Meg?” Chase said in exasperation. “Is she omniscient? She’s probably known Y/N for like a month and a half tops. You’ve known her for years! Who do you think has a better grasp of making judgements about how Y/N feels? And you know what? Neither of you should be making judgements anyway! Let Y/N speak for herself. She’s not a child to have people assign the emotions to her! She wouldn’t even know what to feel unless you tell her how _you_ feel! Hell, you’ve been all over the place since Y/N’s come back. Do you see _me_ bitchin’ bout it?”

When Sam didn’t respond, Chase banged both his palms on the desk. “If you’re not going to fight for your own happiness, I got news for you, boss- the universe doesn’t fucking care! You’ve gotta be selfish if you want to be happy. Did you ever think that maybe this is exactly what Y/N wants? You’ll only be giving her an opportunity to open up.”

“And what if that’s _not_ what she wants?” Sam burst out, desperate, his fear clear in his words. “What if she wants to… to get rid of me.”

Chase’s eyes were gentle, so was his voice. “Then you deserve better than being tied to a relationship that’s long passed.”

Sam’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach.

“I really don’t think that’s the case. I think she’s as scared as you about bringing this up, and maybe for the exact same reason as you,” he assured Sam. Then Chase grinned. “Besides, who would ever say no to you, you hot piece of ass!”

“I’m gonna pretend I didn’t just hear you say that.”

His friend huffed. “It’s what you do, pretend that you don’t have a single feeling for me.”

“I have a feeling, alright- it’s called annoyance.”

Chase chuckled. “Whatever you say, Samuel!” The smile slipped and his shoulders drooped. “I just want you to be happy, man. Even if there is a slightest chance that Y/N might accept Max, don’t you owe it to all three of you to try?”

Chase dropped a heavy hand on Sam’s shoulder giving it a squeeze. Sam appreciated his support more than he could put into words. Chase had always had his back- in the courtroom and outside. 

After Chase left, Stacey dropped in to remind Sam about his hearing tomorrow. It was one of his key clients and though Sam was certain they had it in the bag, he didn’t want to take any chances. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear what Linc was saying,” she said, placing the files on his tables. “Is your wife really back?”

“She’s in the first year class at Stanford.”

Stacey tutted, face pinched. “That’s just-”

“Yeah.”

“What about Max? How’s he handling it?”

Sam signed the papers before him, one at a time, trying to keep up with a second round of questions. “Better than most adults would.” Better than _I_ am.

She hummed and went back to her desk. Thankfully, Stacey had never been the type to pry in his life, even when she had enough reason to- it was her job to manage his time.

The chiming of the clock had Sam out of his chair. He would fret about the case tomorrow in the court. Today, he had much more important things to attend to.

*********

“Don’t use your wrist. Put your shoulder into it. See, like this?” Sam made the motion of taking his shoulders back and then throwing the ball. It made the hoop.

“Easy for you to say,” Max muttered. “You’re freakishly tall.” 

He tried it Sam’s way and the ball still fell short. Max huffed and kicked the basketball away, sitting back on the court, dejected. He was morose about not getting to meet Y/N. Sam could understand- he was going through the exact same thing. Though, Max was trying. He was trying hard to be normal, to do his homework, play the keys at night before bed and even come out and play in the evening, but his usual enthusiasm about basketball was lost today.

If Max could try, so could Sam. He picked up the ball and went to sit by his son, following Max’s gaze to the other side of the playground. Two boys next to the jungle gym were eyeing Max and snickering at him. 

“Are those the kids that give you a hard time?” Sam asked through clenched teeth.

Max nodded.

Sometimes Sam couldn’t understand how kids could be so mean. These were rich children with caring mothers and doting fathers. What drove them to be so harsh with someone who wasn’t bothering them? Sam hadn’t had much experience with children before, but if Max- after having suffered through unspeakable hurts- could be so kind, what excuse did these brats have? Sam had to remind himself that it wasn’t okay to want to punch kids, just like it wasn’t okay to punch Brad in the face and break his nose. Y/N could take care of unwanted advances herself, but that didn’t keep Sam from being pissed.

“Do you want me to go talk to them?” 

Again, Max shook his head. “I don’t care anymore.”

Sam studied his son’s face closely. There was no guile there. He actually meant it.

“Really?”

Max shrugged. “Yeah. Y/N said you would want me to be better than the bullies.”

Sam himself didn’t want to be better than the bullies. He wanted to shake those boys till they were scared witless so they wouldn’t torment his kid anymore. It obviously wasn’t the right thing to do, but neither was telling a little boy that his dad wasn’t his real dad. Sam concentrated on the conversation at hand.

“Y/N really tell you that?” 

“She said her parents would’ve wanted her to be better than the bullies.”

Smart. Not telling Max what to do, rather telling him what she would have done.

“She said she lost her parents,” Max mumbled, still staring ahead. The jerk kids had disappeared, now that it was getting dark.

Sam nodded. “She was very little, five I think. A car crash took them. What else did she tell you?”

“That she had a grandma and an aunt and cousin.” Max paused, then added thoughtfully. “And a sort of brother and a _best friend._ ”

“She said that?” Sam’s throat was suddenly thick.

“Mhmm.”

To have confided all of this in Max, she must feel very close to him. Y/N was a very private person. One could barely get her to share her happiness. The past and her sorrows were buried so deep down, she wouldn’t talk about it unless she really liked Max. Sam knew that even he- in their short marriage- had only scratched the surface of what she felt about her parents, her troubles growing up. The way she used to live her life back in Lawrence, one might’ve assumed she’d never been touched by a shadow of misfortune. Sam was fairly certain that at Stanford, that’s exactly how her peers saw her- someone who was smart and genial. They couldn’t possibly dream of the horrors in her past.

“Can I ask you something?” Max’s voice was small, and Sam knew it would be a difficult question.

Sam never lied to Max. Ever. That boy had been deceived enough by life. God forbid if he ever found out that Sam had lied to him, the consequence might be terrible. So, if he asked a hard question, one whose answer Sam was unwilling to give, he would just tell Max so. And God bless his soul, Max always understood.

“Why did Y/N really leave? And don’t tell me it was because she didn’t trust you or whatever. Please.”

Sam stared into Max’s brown eyes, grasping if he was ready, torn whether he himself could take it.

“You don’t want to tell me,” Max sighed.

“No, it’s not like that,” Sam said. “It’s just hard for me to talk about. Give me a minute.”

Max waited patiently.

Sam knew this was coming- from the minute he found out Max was involved with Y/N. He owed the full truth to his boy for two reasons. One, so Max wouldn’t make up any false ideas and harbour over-expectations of her. Two, he wouldn’t come to resent Y/N for leaving. Sam had held on to that resentment for too long in his heart and let it turn him into a soulless person. 

“I met her right out of law school,” Sam said, allowing himself to lose in the memories of the past. “We got married real soon because we had a baby on the way.”

“A little baby?” Max gasped, eyes going round with wonder. “Just like…?”

“Yeah.” Sam reached out to brush the tangle of hair away from Max’s forehead, a sad smile on his lips. “A very little baby. But we lost him before he could be born… and Y/N… She was very sad. She couldn’t get over it. I guess being around me reminded her too much of him. So she left.”

“You… lost the… baby?” The outrage and disbelief in his soft words was enough to push Sam over the edge. He was glad that it was dark and Max couldn’t see his eyes.

Max scooted closer to Sam on the hard, concrete court. His eyebrows were scrunched up, lips pouting. 

“What is it? I know you’re thinking something.”

Max was reluctant to answer. Sam wasn’t gonna push him on it. He was about to get up, when Max whispered, “If you’d had the baby, would you still have wanted me?”

Sam was stunned. How had Max made _that_ jump? Sometimes Sam was hard pressed to understand how Max’s brain worked. Despite that, it was comforting to know that Max, at least, told him what was on his mind, instead of keeping it to himself. 

“If we’d had the baby,” Sam said confidently. “I would’ve wanted to keep you sooner.”

Involuntarily, a short laugh escaped Sam’s lips, making Max look up in confusion. 

Sam smiled at him. “I was such an idiot back then, it took me too long to realise what I wanted- _you!_ And then, I was terrified that I’d make a bad father. If I’d had any experience with being a dad before, I’d have picked you up the first instant I saw you. I wouldn’t have been so scared.”

Sam pulled Max close and ran his hand up and down Max’s arm. “You were always going to be my son. There is no version of this reality… hell, there’s no version of any universe where you don’t end up with me, kiddo.”

Max sniffled. The crying had been building for a while. Sam had sensed it in the morning and then again later in the evening. It was good that Max was finally letting it out.

“You ain’t getting away from me anytime soon,” Sam chuckled lightly, running his fingers through Max’s hair. “So you can bitch and whine about not making that hoop right now, but I’m not giving up till you make the throw. Now get up.”

“It’s dark!” 

“Not dark enough.”

Max made a big deal out of getting up and retrieving the ball, but two attempts later, he was back to his usual excitement for basketball. Sam dribbled the ball a few times before making the pass and Max leapt into the air, propelling it upwards- the correct posture this time. The ball curved downwards only a foot short of the hoop.

Sam watched Max run after the ball. Max had been right. It was dark enough that if Sam squinted across the ground and on the other side, he could make out the little twinkling light of Y/N’s apartment, through the thick of the trees.

 _Best friend_. Y/N had called him her best friend and not husband. Sam couldn’t understand for the life of him why this felt so much more intimate than if she’d admitted to being married. As if she had trusted him with her heart- not just with her body. 

Chase’s words from the morning came back to him. _Let Y/N speak for herself._

Sam was going to talk to her, come clean about Max and ask her what _she_ wanted to do. They were married for God’s sake, living two streets down from each other. It wasn’t doing either of them any good trying to balance this friendship on the blade of the knife. Soon they were going to fall down on one side or another. Better to take the plunge together, instead of leaving it to fate. After all, when had fate ever been kind to them?

“I did it! I did it, Sam!” Max exclaimed triumphant, running to him with his hand raised. “Did you see? I made the hoop!”

Sam got down on his knee to return Max’s high five, thoughts still jumbled with Y/N. Now that his decision was made, Sam simply couldn’t wait to talk to her. And if she decided she wanted Max afterall, wouldn’t he be making his son happy as well?

“I saw it, kiddo! You were awesome!”

Looking into Max’s grinning face decided it for Sam. Tomorrow. Tomorrow was the day he’d find Y/N and tell her everything. 


	29. Chapter 29

“You know what, Janet? Ask the distributor to go screw himself!” You banged the phone hard, fuming at the receiver. The on duty librarian scuttled away quickly from your line of vision as you stomped outside. Lately, nothing was going your way- one of your draft hypos got deleted from your drive, Sam was still thoroughly avoiding you, Max’s dad wasn’t replying to your messages and now the distributor of the book you desperately wanted to order for the library wasn’t picking up your call. 

Outside, the sun shone harshly through the canopy of massive ferns in the quad. Well, at least, this one thing was in your favor. It wouldn’t rain this week, either. By now, everyone except Kevin placed their bets on the sun. Not even for the sake of solidarity did anyone side with him. After all, it wasn’t fun spending your Sunday getting charred next to judgy Judy when one lost the bet. Kevin was adamant. Every week he faithfully bet on rains and every Sunday evening found him applying lotion on his skin.

The places and seats in the classroom were fairly designated at this point. Everyone knew exactly where they sat. You took your place next to Madison in the second row from the dais for the Civil Procedure class on Friday.

“Still no word from Max?” Madison was sympathetic.

You shook your head morosely.

“Maybe you should pay a visit.”

“I think I’m gonna.” What’s the worst that could happen? His dad might outright forbid you from seeing Max, but, at least, you would know that he was okay. It didn’t make any sense though… Why should he suddenly decide to not send Max over anymore? You had been perfectly polite and responsible when it came to Max, sending over cookies and other baked stuff to impress his dad. Maybe you could go to his house tomorrow morning, after the sleepover with Madison. Just when you were about to ask Maddie if she would accompany you, Sam walked up to the dais briskly.

You resisted the childish urge to stick your tongue at him. Instead of being part of his cursory glance, today he decidedly looked at you. This time, you turned your head. Stupidly hot professor! Who did he think he was being flirty one day and then ghosting you straight for a week afterwards? And all those sweet exchanges in the week before, offering you water every given opportunity- that was flirting! You had thought long and hard and decidedly arrived at that conclusion. 

Throughout the whole lecture, you stubbornly stared either at the projector screen or your laptop, taking down notes, not making way for any eye contact. Let him make what he wanted out of it.

After the class ended, you sat at your desk longer than necessary to be all clear of running into Sam in the corridor, slowly packing your things as the lecture hall emptied around you. 

“So, I’ll see you girls in the evening?” It was Brad. He wore a football jersey today, with a baseball cap turned backwards. This wasn’t normal for law school students, even on a Friday.

Madison was quick to answer, probably scared that you might just say no after all. “Sure, we’ll be there.”

He smirked widely. “Can’t wait to see you, Y/N! Dress appropriately.”

“What did he mean by that?” You asked Madison, on your way to the library. “Dress appropriately.”

To your surprise, Madison laughed. “It’s a pool party, Y/N! Swimsuits and bikinis.”

You snorted. Not that you were planning to stay. A quick word with Brad and you would be out. But had you intended on staying, no way you would go anywhere near the pool.

“I’m going in my work clothes after the shift,” you told her. 

“I’ll stick around in the library till then? We can leave together.”

“You don’t want to change into pool clothes?”

“Nah. I’m not feeling it. What about you?”

“I don’t do pools,” you said flatly.

Madison seemed to have no problem with that. 

“Sounds good.”

You dialed the distributor again after settling down at your desk. The idiot still wasn’t picking up your call. Unlike earlier in the day, you didn’t feel inclined to harass his secretary either. It wasn’t her fault that she had a jerk for a boss.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were avoiding me today.”

Sam stood before you, smiling slightly, his hazel eyes as beautiful as ever. Amazingly, it ticked you off even more.

“Rich of _you_ to assume that anyone is avoiding you,” you hissed, busying yourself with the paperwork.

A quiet sigh sounded over you.

“What do you want, Sam?”

Sam opened his mouth, then closed it. He looked ridiculously handsome in that navy suit. It was _so_ unfair. 

“I just-” he started.

“Oh, hey Sam!” Molly greeted him. “Long time, no see?”

“Yeah, been caught up with some work,” he smiled tightly.

Molly was her usual chatty self, asking Sam about some case of his she was interested in. He answered all her questions, though you could make out a hint of impatience in his voice. 

Once she was gone, he didn’t waste a minute before coming back to you. This time, you looked up, giving him your full attention.

“I wanted to talk to you,” he said, urgently. 

“About what?”

A clammy sensation gripped the back of your neck. Had Sam reconsidered his offer to be friends? Had he decided he wanted to do nothing with you after all?

“About me. What I’ve been upto in the past years. Trust me, you need to know.”

There was a desperate edge to his words. Whatever Sam wanted to tell you, he was afraid that you wouldn’t like it. Which made him all the more desperate to get it out.

“Sam-”

The phone rang shrilly, making you jump.

You picked it, eyes still on Sam, answering with a breathy “Hello?”

The distributor had decided to call back after all. You held up two fingers to Sam and he nodded, pacing in front of the desk as you spoke on the phone. You confirmed the number of copies, cost and date of delivery. The guy apologised profusely for not being available earlier and it made you feel bad for being irked with him. When you finally put the phone down and Sam attempted to talk, Madison came over.

“Professor!” She exclaimed. “I was just coming over to your office, hoping to catch you. I meant to discuss the case-study with Paul, but he’s out of town today. Do you think you have a couple of minutes?”

“Uhh sure.” Sam threw an aching look over his shoulder at you, before following Madison to her table.

Gone was your annoyance at him. Now, you were simply worried about what Sam wanted to tell you. He never lost his composure this way. 

You busied yourself with the task at hand till Sam made his way back to you.

“This isn’t going to work,” he sighed. Sam pulled out a card from his pocket and placed it before you. “It’s got my number. Call me as soon as you can.”

After he was gone, you picked up the card and ran your fingers lightly over the _Acton Griswold_ embossed in gold on the very expensive paper. Underneath, it said:

 _Samuel Winchester; Junior Partner_ , followed by his number. So simple, and yet so damn powerful. You quickly saved the number in your phone under ‘Sam.’

Ironically, after Sam left, no one bothered you for the next hour at all. After going back and forth over the idea of calling him, you finally hit call on his contact.

Sam picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” His voice was expectant.

“Hey, it’s me.”

A chuckle sounded on the other end. “I know.”

“So… what did you want to talk about?”

Sam followed up your question with his own. “What’re you doing in the evening?”

All the curses that you knew ran through your mind. Why? Why had you ever agreed to go to that dumb pool party? “I have to be at this stupid party. I’ll just show my face and be out in like fifteen minutes max.”

“Do you think you’ll be able to find some time for me afterwards?”

“Of course.”

There was a pause. “Where’s the party?”

“Student accoms, 104 Alvarado street. I should be out by 8.”

“That’s very close to my house,” Sam said, surprised. “There’s a big fir tree next to the frat house. I’ll wait for you there at 8 sharp. Dinner at the café? Matt makes mean burgers.”

Butterflies- no, butterflies pumped with steroids- assaulted your stomach at the thought of going out with Sam.

Gulping loudly, you said. “You want to give Matt and Suzy another chance to tease you?”

“Would be worth it,” Sam promised. 

“Okay, then, it’s a date,” you smiled, then bit your tongue immediately. 

A light chuckle sounded on the other end. “Oh, I should hope so.” The phone clicked off.

Cue, the butterfly assault got worse- to the point where you wanted to throw up.

“Was that you fixing a date that I just heard?” Madison grinned at you from across the counter. 

You were sure your face was betraying all your emotions. It sure felt really hot. “Yeah, it’s this guy I used to go out with when I lived in Kansas.”

“Look at you all glowing,” Madison teased, her face gleeful. “When’s the date?”

“Oh no!” You turned to your friend. “You and I already have plans for tonight. I should call him and cancel.”

“No!” Madison snatched the phone from you. “You’ll do no such thing. We can always reschedule for later, Y/N. I could crash over tomorrow and you can tell me all about this mystery man.”

You bit your lip. Madison had proven to be a good friend over and over, but could you involve her in this by telling her about Sam?

“Screw the pool party,” Madison said, not having paid attention to you. “We don’t have to go there.”

“Uh I kinda planned to meet him afterwards. I didn’t want you to go to that party alone, Maddie.”

“You’re such a darling.” She blew you a kiss. 

Her tone changed. “I can’t let you go on a date in _these!_ ” Madison gave you a once over and self consciously, you did the same. There was nothing wrong with your pant and jacket ensemble. It was decent enough for classes, so it’ll have to be decent enough for the evening.

Your stomach started doing the weird thing again at the thought of a date. 

“Absolutely not,” Madison declared. “As your friend, I will not let you go out looking like a TA reject. You stay here. I’ll just run to my place and grab something cool for you.”

“Maddie-”

Before you could stop her, Madison was out, a new spring to her step. Maybe she would understand after all if you confided in her. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone from class be in the know?

Madison’s idea of date appropriate attire was so much better than Meg’s. The blouse was a delicate cream colour and the off-white skirt, which ended just above your knee was flowy with a small roses print. Somehow you were already wearing complimenting white shoes. A pale peach sweater was stashed in the Librarians room. Madison didn’t really approve of the sweater, but she didn’t say a word. Louis Sullivan was right when he said, “Form follows function.”

Sweater was a necessity. Besides, it looked cute. As your shift drew to a close, you changed into her clothes and let your hair down- something you almost never did. Thanking your lucky stars for inspiring you to blow dry it today, you drew it over your shoulder, then dabbed some gloss on your lips. 

Madison clapped her hands in glee when you came out. “Our dude has no chance! He’ll be clean bowled!”

“Clean bowled?” You raised an eyebrow.

“Oh, hush! My mother’s British. At least, she pretends to be.”

Madison told you more of her mother’s antiques on your way to the frat house. She also told you that she had been trying to reach out to one of her brothers and they were going out for lunch tomorrow. Rebecca and Co. must be a bad influence, you decided. What with them fueling Madison’s doubts about her brothers not wanting her around. Family was family. No matter the differences, they usually had your back.

The frat house wasn’t what you expected. For one, it wasn’t messy- at least, not in the passageways and the entrance. The front façade was very classical for a building in Stanford- still sandstone, but with too many embellishments. At the entrance, you noticed the big fir Sam had told you about. Standing underneath it, the edge of the pool was visible behind the building. If you stuck to the eastern edge, you should be able to see Sam standing here. 

Reaching the poolside, you realised you were obviously overdressed. Madison, who had chosen a crop top and a pair of jeans shorts was more in line with everyone else. Most of the guys were shirtless, in boxers and the girls had expensive bikini tops with sarongs tied artfully around their waist. Even looking at them made you shiver. What must it be like to enjoy wearing such clothes without the fear of freezing over? 

“Well well well if it isn’t the star of the party!” Brad was obviously part of the topless gang. His boxers had a very vivid pattern of palm leaves on it.

“Brad.” You tried to smile and not frown at his appearance. It was _his_ party and you were a guest- you had to be cordial. The clock only read 7:35. Twenty-five more minutes before Sam arrived. You could do this.

“What’s all this, Y/N?” He clucked his tongue. “It’s a pool party, not a high-school farewell.”

You were trying so hard to be good and he had to be a jerk.

“This is good enough for me, Brad,” you said stiffly.

He snorted. “We’ll see. I’m sure I can show you the benefits of our pool by the end of tonight.” 

“I’m not going near it.”

“We’ll see,” he repeated, smirking.

Lacey and Rebecca found you there. To your surprise, they came directly for you, ignoring Madison completely. The hurt was clear on her face as the two of them started on a random topic from class. Lacey, you could still understand, but a friendly Rebecca didn’t help your suspicion. It was rarer than a blue moon and simply impossible in your case. You tried your best to wiggle back towards Madison, who was trying to make small talk with someone else she knew. Meredith was conspicuous in her absence.

Looking about yourself, you realised none of these people were from your class. Out of the twenty-five or thirty odd people gathered, the only ones you knew were Brad, his two usual cronies, the girls in front of you and Madison. That was all. And more weirdly, despite being a pool party, no one was actually inside the pool. You hadn’t ever been to one before, but you were fairly certain that pool parties involved some swimming. Instead, the majority of them were gathered around the expensive looking bar counter, with fancy drinks in their hands.

The back of your neck prickled and you edged away from the pool. It had been a bad idea to come here. Forget talking to Brad about the uncomfortable situation, now you wanted nothing more than to be away from this place. Excusing yourself from the pointlessly dragging conversation, you checked your watch. Still five minutes to eight. Craning your neck, you peered at the fir tree- no sign of Sam.

Deciding to say your goodbyes early, and go wait for Sam instead, you headed towards Madison. She was standing at the far end of the lawn, as away from you as possible, looking uncharacteristically out of place. She used to be the life and soul of such parties. Now it looked like she wanted nothing more than to escape as well. 

Just as you took a stride in her direction, Brad blocked your way. He held a light pink drink in his hand. “One for the lady?”

“No, I’m sorry, I need to head home.”

“Oh, c’mon, Y/N! Don’t be such a prude. I put together a whole damn party so you can learn how to have some fun, and here you are playing hard to get as always.” 

That got your attention. “Playing hard to get?”

“Now don’t act so innocent! We all know you’re into me. You’re just trying to up the game.” He rolled his eyes. “But now… now you’re just overdoing it. No one likes _that_ much of a tease.”

You jerked back, spitting out the next words. “Brad, I _do not_ like you.”

“Sure you do. Why else are you at my party then?”

“To tell you exactly that,” you hissed. “I didn’t think a classroom would be a good place to tell you this, but back off. I’m not interested. I already love someone else.”

“Come on, sweetie, I know you don’t mean that!” Brad grabbed your wrist with his freehand. The pink liquid in his other hand sloshed. 

“Let go!” you said through gritted teeth, appalled at his audacity. 

One of Brad’s hench boys took the swaying glass from him, allowing Brad to yank you closer. Before you could even understand what was happening, Brad slid a hand under your knees and lifted you in his arms.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing? Put me down!” You screamed. Why was no one doing anything to stop this asshole? 

You tried to free your arm from his side to punch him in the face, but the next instant you realised he was moving forward- towards the pool.

Your very breath disappeared from your chest as it hit you what he was about to do.

“No no no- please Brad, please put me down,” you begged, struggling to break free of his grip. Gone was all the anger; fear replaced it, overlapping your senses till it was the only emotion coursing in your blood.

“Brad,” you pleaded, tears threatening to spill. “Don’t do this.” 

“You really need to learn to have some fun!” He said, flinging you up in the air. 

The scream that pierced the clear evening sky was cut short as your body broke the surface of the water, your weight dragging you towards the bottom. A current went through your body as the cold hit, seeping through your clothes and getting under your skin- hundreds and thousands of tiny ice pricks enough to kill. And then there was the burning as your inhaled- straight out of your nightmares, the cold water, not chilling, but scorching your throat as it went in through your airway.

You were vaguely aware of hooting and laughter above you, over the rush as it flooded your ears, and then there was only the roar of water. You knew this feeling, of thrashing with all your might but never resurfacing, of not knowing which way was up. It was always like this. The cold, the pain and the suffocation driving you towards unconsciousness. You could give up now and let the dulling, numbing sleep take you. But you didn’t, you couldn’t. You didn’t allow the drowsiness to pull you down, because there was something infinitely more important in this world than your own life. You had to force yourself to swim to protect _that thing._

As you used every ounce of your energy to propel your legs, your hands automatically, instinctually went to your stomach. It was flat. There was nothing there to protect… _no one._

The memories all came flooding down at once. The blood, the hurt… the loss. You gave up entirely, a hopelessness darker than the darkness behind your closed lids keeping you under. What was the point in trying? You would’ve fallen apart, if it weren’t for the strong binds holding you together. Just when you thought you had sunk beneath forever, your face broke the surface of the water. Those weren’t binds, they were arms.

The back of your head hit a solid surface hard and then a strong set of hands were on your chest, forcing the water out of your lungs. It gushed in torrents out of your mouth and nose, searing on it’s way out. At the same time, you realised, the cacophony all around you wasn’t the water in your ears, it was the sound of too many people yelling at once.

It didn’t matter, you didn’t care. Nothing mattered, except that you were alone… he was gone. Why were you breathing in and out anymore? It wasn’t serving any purpose, the reason and will to draw in air abandoned you completely. 

Softly, someone swore above you, redoubling the effort on your chest. You recognised the hiss. Nothing, nothing in the whole wide world could have demanded your attention now except his voice.

_Sam._

“Don’t give up,” he whispered fiercely. “Don’t you fucking dare give up.”

And then your body started to shake, like a raggedy Ann doll being swung in the wind. You opened your eyes, finding tear-streaked and terrified hazel eyes looming over you. You blinked.

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed. 

“M-my b-baby.” Your body shuddered again. Those weren’t just shivers, they were sobs, harrowing your body. “S-Sam m ba-by.”

Briefly, the darkness overtook you again, mind slipping in and out of semblance.

The cold needles were still ravaging your skin, but the voices around you were gone, so was the floor under your head. Everything was incomprehensible, the cold threatened to overcome you. Only the soft reassurances in his words kept you tethered to the edge of consciousness.

“I lost him… Our lil b-baby-”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know.” Sam was all around you. Against your cheek, you could feel the disjointed beat of his heart, as he rocked you. His hands were under your back and your knee holding you to him.

“S-Sam,” your voice hitched in the complete quiet around you. Your eyes noted a driveway and a slightly unkempt lawn- familiar, but not so much. 

Unable to keep up with the violent shuddering of your body, your lids closed completely, Sam’s words echoing in your ears, as he said- “It’s going to be alright, love. I’m with you now. I got you.”


	30. Chapter 30

Sam checked his watch as he hurried along the sidewalk, almost to the big fir at the corner of Stanford’s biggest Frat house. Sam had lived here in the first year of college, before managing to save enough to rent someplace else. He snorted to himself remembering Dean’s face after being disillusioned about Frat parties. The weed, girls and unlimited booze got old very quickly once the bills started coming in, not that Sam had been into much of those to begin with. 

He made it to the decided spot just in time- only a couple minutes left to eight. Y/N would be here any second. Sam’s heart thudded at the thought. 

Things had worked out perfectly well so far, and if luck favored him, his streak might continue for the rest of the evening. Daring to hope too much, Sam had asked Max if he would be okay staying late at Jody’s tonight. Max was more than okay. Claire owned a home-bowling set and Max’s not so sly hints about how it would make an awesome Christmas present hadn’t missed Sam. 

Sam would go over to Jody’s later in the night and carry a sleeping Max back home, should things go according to plan. 

His phone rang, flashing Jody’s name. Think of the devil…

“Heard you had a hot date planned tonight!”

Sam could feel his cheeks heating up. It was stupid. “It’s not a date. I figured, I’d set the facts right with Y/N.”

“About time if you ask me.”

Jody could gloat. She had earned the right.

“Hey, is it okay if I pick Max up late? Alex said it would be fine.”

“I’ll do you one better,” Jody said. “Let Max stay over. I’ve just picked him up. The four of us are going to the movies and then we’ll catch dinner afterwards.”

“Jody, you don’t need to do that.”

“What’re you talking about? I love having the little monster around. He’s a much better company than you. Sides, you seriously need to live a little. Don’t worry about the clock, just… sort this out, Sam. And have a little fun while you’re at it. Max will be okay. He’s excited about Claire’s bowling set. Aren’t you, Max?”

Max’s low voice harrumphed in the speaker. “It’s the one I was telling you about!” He yelled and a girl’s- Claire’s, Sam guessed- laughter rang. “Pleaseeeeee can I stay?”

It was the most excited Sam had heard him in a week. Not since the disaster fight anyway. 

“Alright,” Sam smiled. “Don’t stay up late and don’t bother aunt Jody.”

“Oh, shut up, Mr. Grumpy discipline-pants!” Jody shushed him. More laughter ensued in the background along with the tell-tale revving of Jody’s engine. “Good luck, big guy.”

Sam barely had enough time to put the phone in his pocket and then shirk out of his coat before words of protest and pleading sounded in the distance. Sam wouldn’t have noticed them over the voices of laughter and hooting, if he hadn’t already been so attuned to her voice, if all his thoughts hadn’t already been trained towards her. 

He turned just in time to see Brad fling Y/N into the pool which was just visible behind the building.

“NO!” Sam’s shout was too far away and too late as raucous laughter echoed through the chill evening air. 

Next second, without consciously deciding to, Sam was sprinting towards the pool. His shoes sliding on the wet grass, slowing him down. This felt like a nightmare- the faster Sam tried to move, the farther Y/N seemed. He trudged and trudged but he simply couldn’t get to her soon enough. Once his feet hit tiled ground, Sam abandoned his coat and roughly pushed past the loud, disgusting crowd to the edge of the pool. To his horror, there was no splashing, no struggle in the water. Underneath the transparent surface, Y/N had gone still, her body folded inwards.

Without another thought, Sam dove right into the water, swimming to her side. It took him a minute to coax her rigid body to straighten out and wrap his arm around her. With all his might, Sam pushed upwards till both their faces broke the surface of water. Hands reached out to help him, but Sam wouldn’t relinquish his hold on her. Defensively, he held on, trying to find a way to get her out by himself. One hand broke free of the crowd and grabbed Y/N’s shoulders.

Madison Maxwell. 

Her face was wet with tears and she looked very white. Sam realised that he couldn’t push Y/N out of the water on his own. He hoisted her up by the waist till Madison could hook her hands under Y/N’s arms and pull her up. Sam was next to her on the floor in the next minute. 

It was the deep end of the pool and Y/N couldn’t swim. Sam’s vision tunneled in at the thought of what could’ve happened as he patted her cold face. Rivulets of water were running away from her hair and body into the cold tiles underneath her.

“Y/N? Y/N?” 

There was no response at first. Then, all of a sudden her body started to twitch- no, it spasmed. Not in the normal way a cold person’s would but like she was in pain. 

Sam turned her head to the side, and pressed her stomach, her chest. Water gushed out of her mouth in torrents, making her cough raggedly. His hands were working too hard, forcing her lungs to work by the sheer will of his desperation. 

“What’s happening? What’s going on?”

Sam couldn’t be bothered to turn around and see who it was, but Madison answered. “She’s prone to hypothermia, you moron! She’s going into a shock. What the hell were you thinking throwing her into water like that?”

More water came as Sam put his shoulders into it, pressing her stomach hard.

She needed air, but he couldn’t let go of her to do that. “Blow air into her mouth,” he ordered, pumping her chest one more time.

On point, Madison pinched Y/N’s nose and bent down over her face, again and again. 

“No, please, no,” he prayed in a low voice, next to her face. The words barely formed a sound. “Don’t give up, don’t you fucking dare give up.”

Her eyes opened just a tiny sliver. 

“Oh, thank God,” he breathed, easing on her. Sam’s relief didn’t last long. The spasming doubled, shudders ripped through her entire body, as if she wasn’t made of any substance

Despite the shaking, Y/N’s hand found her stomach, the shaking fingers clutching at the wet clothing of her blouse pitiably. She took one rattling breath and then lips moved unintelligibly.

“What’s she saying?” A voice asked. Sam bent down closer.

“M-my b-baby,” she whispered brokenly. Sam’s soul froze. Her eyes, shattered and tortured, found his. “S-Sam m ba-by.” Not just shivers but sobs tore through her body.

Sam’s hand holding her down started shaking almost as badly as her. Invisible fingers were choking his throat, making it impossible to breathe. No. He could not let her go to pieces here. Or himself. Sam slid both his hands under her body and hefted himself to his feet with her cradled against his chest. 

“Get out of the way,” he snarled. The gathered crowd scattered quickly. Madison put Sam’s discarded coat over Y/N’s body as he carried her out to the sidewalk. The wind, unobstructed by the building, hit them forcefully. Y/N shuddered violently once more. He tightened his grip on her body. 

“I lost him… Our lil b-baby-”

“I know, Sweetheart, I know,” Sam’s voice broke, his vision blurred. 

“Why is she saying _that?”_

Only then did Sam notice that Madison had followed him. A disjoined part of Sam’s mind wondered how much she had heard. Right now the rest of him couldn’t bring itself to care.

“Where are you taking her?” Madison asked again, voice both concerned and demanding. 

“Jody lives down the lane. I’ll get her there. We’ll have to warm her up soon.”

“I’ll come,” she insisted.

Sam stopped and looked at Madison with half-crazed eyes. “I _know_ what I’m doing. I’ll take care of her.”

After a second, she nodded. 

Sam didn’t wait for another word from Madison. He hurried along the sidewalk, keeping himself upright by remembering that Y/N needed him. He was almost to her door when Sam realised that Jody wouldn’t be home. She was with Max, at the movies. Thanking his one shot of luck that he lived next door, Sam turned into his own driveway. Another sob wracked through Y/N.

“S-Sam,” she clutched at his wet shirt, recoiling against his side in an invisible pain so strong, Sam could feel it in his own bones.

“It’s going to be alright, love. I’m with you now,” he promised, punching the code at his door. It sprung open. “I got you.”

The next few minutes were just a flurry of desperation. Sam put her down on the sofa. His mind went into mechanical mode, detached from the anguish he felt as he yanked her wet sweater away. Next, Sam pulled the skirt down her legs. The wet blouse stuck to her chest without a give. Sam caught hold of the neckline and tore the delicate fabric away from her body. Luckily, the thick afghan was already draped over the sofa. He yanked it down and wrapped her in the afghan. When that wouldn’t suffice, he ran upstairs and pulled out the blankets in his closet, dragging them down with him. Carefully he added the layers on top of her. 

Sam turned on the air conditioner, but the living room was too big for the heating to take any effect immediately. Her shaking wouldn’t stop. 

Despairing, Sam pulled Y/N into his arms once more, blankets and all, then carried her to his room upstairs. He gently placed her on the bed, shut the door and turned the heat up. This would work, it would _have_ to work. Sam sat by her side on the bed, rubbing her palms vigorously with his hands. Y/N wasn’t crying anymore, just mumbling drowsily, but her lips were losing colour and her breathing was laboured.

Sam knew there was an easier way to warm her up, but he also knew that if he resorted to that, he would never be able to go back from it. The memory alone would pull him apart piece by piece, till nothing was left of him- not even to scavenge and put back together. If Y/N rejected him after that, Sam wouldn’t be able to look at her again without dying a little inside each time. He didn’t have to guess the pain that would wait for him. He only had to remember it.

His entire being shied away from that alternative as a survival instinct and he doubled his efforts, chafing her palm, alternating between her feet. Sam’s hands were starting to ache, but he wouldn’t budge. Not till she stopped shaking. 

“Please please,” he begged the universe. “Make her better.”

She did not stop trembling. 

Sam got up at once, torn between her well-being and protecting his own mind from what he was considering. 

“S-Sam,” she stuttered once more, cringing against his sheets in obvious pain. 

That decided it for Sam. He couldn’t watch her suffer like that. Sam pulled the tie off, and wrenched his shirt, ripping a few buttons in the process, then rid himself of the rest of his clothes till he was stripped down to his boxers.

Getting back on the bed, he placed a hand against her cheek. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he whispered. “I’m sorry. I have to.”

Sam took a deep breath, bracing himself for what he was about to do, then raised the several covers over her and slid under them. His body was barely inches away from hers. Sam’s heart was hammering against his ribs, his throat felt drier than the Thar desert. Ever so lightly he wrapped his arms around Y/N and slowly drew her body into his, so that he was completely covering her. His hands crossed over her back, legs entangled in hers. Y/N was ice against his warm skin, and Sam couldn’t help the involuntary shudder that ran down his spine. She sniffled against his shoulder once and Sam wished that along with the cold, he could take away her pain, too. 

At first, the shuddering got worse and Sam tightened his arms around her, almost welding her to himself. He tried to keep her from moving as much as he could so it wouldn’t hurt so much later. _This_ shuddering didn’t frighten Sam. Because he had seen this happen before. He’d been there for her, when chills caught her all of a sudden during the second trimester. Sam wasn’t scared because he knew exactly what he was doing. It always got worse before it got better.

And slowly but surely, it did get better. Without inhibitions, Y/N stretched her toes, putting them against his calves and over his feet. Her finger dug into his back, holding herself in place. Not for a moment did Sam’s hand falter as he continued running it up and down her almost bare back. He lost track of minutes in the repetitive motion. The only time Sam broke his rhythm was when he felt Y/N turn her face into his chest. He could _feel_ her soft lips pressing into his skin and his heart very nearly stopped.

Sam hoped that she would fall asleep after the harrowing ordeal, but when the shivering stopped, when her body couldn’t take any more of the torment, the actual damn broke. Y/N cried wordlessly this time, no calling out for her lost baby, no crying out for him- Sam. She simply, relentlessly sobbed into his chest, grieving for a loss only he could feel. Something about the way her nails bit into his skin, the way her forehead- now sticky with sweat- rubbed against his shoulder- as if she wanted to crawl into his body, disappear under his skin- confirmed it for Sam. She hadn’t mourned for their little boy before. This was a new, scalding hot torture and Y/N didn’t know how to handle it, how to get rid of it.

Sam knew how. The only way out was _through._ He’d had to do it by himself, let this pain take him in waves at night when there was no one to see him fall apart, but he’d be damned if he let Y/N face it alone. She cried for hours. When her body became too heated under the covers, Sam made a move to get up, but Y/N clung to him, shaking her head.

“I’m not leaving you,” he said, voice hoarse. “You’ll run yourself into a fever under all these layers.”

In the end he wrapped the thinnest of the covers around her body. Sam sat up with his back against the headrest and pulled her into his lap. This way she couldn’t throw her hands around him, but at least her skin wasn’t touching his anymore. Y/N still burrowed into him. Daring to hope, Sam tentatively threw his arms around her, tucking his chin over her head, running his fingers through her sweaty, wet hair just like he used to. The awful familiarity of the motion was opening a sinking pit in his stomach. This might be the last time he would get to hold her so close.

Eventually, her sobs subsided into dry heaves- each one reverberating through Sam- and then into an uneasy but even breathing. She had fallen asleep.

To Sam, this felt like a strange, out of body experience. Like _this_ moment- where she was willingly sleeping in his arms- existed outside of time and space. It didn’t make any sense. Because this night, this very scene should’ve happened six and a half years ago- a husband and wife lamenting the loss of the apple of their eyes, before they could’ve laid eyes on him. That as much as they might want, they would never get him back. And yet, here he was, consoling the woman who was barely his wife anymore, scared that he was still somehow hurting her. 

Despite all of it, this just felt right. Years later, this was the only way they could’ve grieved. It’s a race, Sam thought, a strenuous, tedious race. Y/N had abandoned him at the very beginning of it, leaving him to run the course by himself. Sam hadn’t run the course, though. No, he had dragged himself on his bloody elbows and knees till the finish line was visible. It had been visible for years now- but after a point, Sam simply couldn’t carry on. He was forced to remain there, so close. Never able to cross the line, destined to balefully glare at it. 

Only now, with Y/N sleeping in his arms did he realise that neither of them could have done it alone. Sometime in the middle of the holding on to each other, tonight, they had crossed that finish line together- it was the only way.

************

Consciousness didn’t come slowly and blissfully. It came like a shock, making you jerk. Warm arms tightened around you instinctively. You stilled.

Outside the floor to ceiling length window, it was still very dark. And you were still very much in Sam’s arms. The thin sheet covering you was now bunched up around your waist and your skin was covered in a fine sheen of sweat especially where it was touching Sam’s. Your heart picked up double the speed as the situation began settling on you.

Under your face, Sam’s heartbeat was steady, his chest was rising and falling evenly, leading you believe he was asleep. The realisation of what had just happened was heavy, threatening to drag you to the bottom of hell. Holding on to Sam felt like the only thing that was saving you from that fate. The agony of accepting the loss of your baby was so intense, your mind automatically shied away from it, reaching for the shutters that kept it at bay. The shutters wouldn’t fall down. Just like your bubble of emotionlessness hadn’t returned after seeing Sam. 

This was permanent. This pain? It was never going away.

The digital clock on the bedside table glowed in the dark. 2:35 am. The room itself was plunged in darkness. You could vaguely make out the shape of a frame behind the clock, the light colour of the curtains partially covering the window. The only light in the room was what filtered from the faraway lamps on the street beyond the lawn and the moon high above in the sky.

It was enough for you to make out the profile of Sam’s shoulders and arms.

Your hands were already circling Sam’s waist, with your cheek pressed into the smattering of hair on his chest. Lightly, you tightened your hold. Sam, true to his never-ending compassion had given all of himself to you last night. And true to yourself, selfishly, you had used it all. Used his empathy, his kindness and his warmth. 

What right did you have to any of this? What right did you have to be in his room, in his bed and in his arms? The answer was right before your eyes- a plain ring, hanging from around his neck. Tears sprang painfully in your swollen eyes. 

Yes, it was beyond selfish and yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to move a muscle away from Sam. At the same time, you were acutely aware of how intimately your bodies were touching, barely clothed. You waited for the embarrassment, the reticence to come. It did not. Because this was _Sam!_ And as much as you wanted to spend the rest of your life exactly like this, you knew it wasn’t what he wanted. This was wrong. 

Stealing one last moment to yourself, you lightly pressed your lips against the warm skin of his chest in a silent ‘thank you,’ inhaling as much of him as you could. He smelt like sunny days and the memory of happiness.

You pushed yourself back. Sam stirred, jerking up right. In the light from outside, you could see his eyes looking down at you. 

“You okay?” He asked, voice concerned but thick with sleep.

“Mhmm.”

Slowly, you began to disentangle yours. Realising, what you wanted, Sam dropped his hands and pushed back. He reached out to turn on the lamp by his bed, bathing him in a dull, orange glow. 

“I-uh… I had to get rid of the wet clothes. You were shivering so bad, I didn’t know what else to do to make it stop, and-”

“Sam. I understand. You don’t have to explain.”

His eyes ran down the front of your body, which was only covered in a bra and underwear. He looked away, gulping. “I’ll uh- I’ll get you something to wear.”

You watched him get up uncertainly from the messy bed and slide the door of a walk-in wardrobe. He stepped inside and pulled on a sweatpant, then drew out a long-sleeved t-shirt, another pair of sweatpants and boxers. Walking out, he placed it on the bed next to you. 

Sam’s face was drawn, the corners of his eyes tightened in worry. It looked like he wanted to say something, but kept deciding against it. Finally, he spoke, eyes cast to the foot of the bed. “You should sleep here tonight. I’ll be in the next room.”

He turned to leave and you couldn’t help yourself. 

“S-Sam. Don’t leave me by myself. Stay. Please stay.”

Selfish. Selfish, your brain screamed at you. It didn’t take much to see the hurt in Sam’s eyes. See exactly how much effort it took to play normal.

He nodded. “I’ll just step outside till you get changed.”

“Sam-”

He looked up, expectant. 

The question tumbled out without a thought. “Why do you still wear the ring?”

Pain- stark and clear flashed across his face. It was the rawest emotion you had seen on him and was quickly morphing into something else. All his composure, control evaporated into thin air right in front of you.

 _“You,_ of all people, are asking me _that?_ ”

“I-”

Something inside his eyes snapped. “I wear this ring because I’m married, Y/N. You might have forgotten that but I haven’t.”

“I haven’t forgotten,” you whispered, caught off guard by the sudden intensity Sam was radiating. 

“Then why didn’t you come back? Every day of the past six years, five months and two days I’ve stared at every door, hoping you would walk through. Every. Damn. Day. And you never showed. I looked and looked for days, for months, drove myself crazy and not once did you call. Why?

“I thought you must have moved on…” you mumbled. “That you must have annulled the marriage. You had the chance…”

“Annulled… the… marriage?” Sam whispered the words slowly, as if they didn’t make any sense.

Next second he was beside you, eyes burning with anger, voice low and seething. “How dare you? How dare you think I would ever… Did anything I ever say mean nothing to you?” Sam put his face in his hands and when he spoke next, through his fingers, the anger was gone. Now, only defeat coloured his words. “I thought you knew me, Y/N. I thought you understood me to the depth of my soul. Guess I was wrong.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. You knew you’d had your reasons to believe that he would’ve moved on, but you couldn’t seem to find them anymore. Seeing him this broken and aghast, you couldn’t find the logic behind your reasoning. Watching him crumple into himself, there was no doubt in your mind- this was a man who had never moved on, who never could have.

The last time you had seen him like this, with his head in his hands was in the hospital, telling Dean he didn’t know how to face you, how to tell you that you couldn’t be a mother again.

“Tell me why did you do it?” He asked, voice haunted. “Why did you leave me? Could you not find a sliver of trust inside of you that I might be able to fix us, fix what we had? Didn’t I deserve even one chance?”

“I left because I didn’t want to hurt you anymore!” You burst out. “What life could you _possibly_ live with a woman who couldn’t bear children, who was barely alive? You deserved a family, loving children… picket fences and father’s day. What could I give you?

Sam looked up sharply. His hands grabbed your shoulders. “You could give me, _you,_ Y/N!” He cried out. “Did you think my love was so shallow that I would love you less for it?”

“Your love wasn’t shallow. It was _too_ strong. But I wasn’t strong enough to bear it, Sam. I couldn’t live through another day knowing what I had taken away from you, what I couldn’t give you.”

“The only thing I wanted was you!” His eyes bore into yours, begging you to see what you were so steadfastly refusing to believe.

You looked down at the bedspread and spoke in a quiet voice. “Four years ago, I was in Texas. School by the day and night shifts at a lawyer’s office. This girl who worked there got everyone succulents. The pots fit in your hands. Everyone picked the brightest looking plants- one with flowers, small aloes. You know what I got? A cactus. Few inches tall. Five pods in all. She said it was the one that didn’t need any maintenance. Water it once a week, and forget about it for the rest of the day. She didn’t say it to my face, but I knew what she was thinking. That cactus was a lot like me- dry, existing for the heck of it.”

Sam’s body twitched. 

“For the first time since Lawrence, I was responsible for something… for that little plant. I wanted to water it everyday, but I held myself back, played by the rules, and put it out in the sun each morning.” You met Sam’s gaze. “You know what happened to it, Sam? One by one they all died. Started with the littlest one. It just fell right into the mud, sickly and oozing out sap. Next day, three more fell off. That last one was a fighter… it survived by itself for three more days. And when I got back from work, there it was lying in the mud, blown up and rotting. I sat by it all night and cried.”

“Y/N-”

“You don’t understand how it feels to get something you didn’t deserve and lose it just because. I didn’t deserve you then and I don’t deserve you now.”

His fingers tightened around your shoulders. “Don’t say that.”

“Don’t you see, Sam?” You yelled. “Everything I touch withers away, everyone I love just dies. What chance did an unborn baby stand? I’m jinxed, Sam… _cursed._ I don’t know how you never saw it, but I’ve seen it all my life… watched people I love die one by one, because of me.”

“It was an accident, Y/N,” Sam matched your tone, his hands shaking you. “Just like your parents. It was terrible and catastrophic, but that doesn’t make you a- a…” He was revolted at the very thought. “You’re one of the best things to happen to me, Y/N. I WILL NOT let you call the woman I love, the only one I ever will a _jinx.”_ He shook you again and you rattled. “Do you understand?”

You started sobbing, once more, looking down at your lap.

“Hey, hey,” Sam said softly. “What happened?”

“Don’t say that,” you blubbered, looking into his beautiful hazel eyes. “Don’t say you love me.”

And then he was kissing you. Hard. Like his life depended on it. You weren’t sure if you had pulled him towards you first, or if Sam had leaned in. All that mattered was how Sam’s lips were hot and wet against yours. His hands came up to cradle your face, fingers stretching from the base of your neck, all the way to your chin. Sam wasn’t gentle, and the kiss wasn’t without a purpose. He was showing you just how wrong you were in assuming emotions for him. He was urging you to see and believe exactly what he felt for you. It wasn’t a kiss, it was reverence. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he breathed against your lips. “I love you. Always have, always will. Until the very last day of my life. And if there is a life after this one, I will find you there and love you still.”

He kissed the side of your head. “It’s the absolute truth of my life. I tried to run from it, I tried to change it. But it’s who I _am._ You need to know that once and for all.”

“Sam, I-”

“Hush, you don’t have to say anything now. It’s been a long day and you need rest.”

There were so many things you wanted to say. More than that, you wanted to pull him back and kiss him more. He tasted exactly like he used to- sweet and bitter like coffee and love. Your lips were tingling, blood boiled in your veins. Sam was right there in front of you, looking at you like you were the most precious thing in the world. And you were so tired, so heartbroken… but not lost in the sea anymore. You were sheltered in your harbour. 

Sam was right. The words you said now, even of love, could wreck both your lives and you weren’t in any condition to think them through.

Quietly, Sam handed you his t-shirt, which you pulled over your head. The sleeves were so long, you had to push them up till your elbows. The fabric bunched up there. 

You slid down on the bed slowly and Sam pulled the covers over you.

“You’re staying, right?” You asked in a small voice.

“Of course, Darling. Let me just get the light.” You drank the sight of him- his long hair, pointed face and eyes brimming with care and concern, before the lights turned off. Sam slid along the length of the bed. Tentatively you shifted towards him and Sam automatically caught hold of you. You placed your head on his shoulders and lightly put your hand over his chest, over the silver band. 

Through sheer muscle memory, his fingers found your hair. He used it to pull your face towards him and kiss the side of your head.

“Sleep, love,” he said as you closed your eyes.


	31. Chapter 31

The sun was right in your eyes. It woke you up. You were still in Sam’s arms, which were wrapped around your body. His face was nestled against the side of your face. All you had to do was turn your head to see him. Sam’s face was serene, his breathing even. You took the opportunity to really look at him- the almost purple shadows under his eyes, the light etchings left on either side of the bridge of his nose by his glasses. There was a scar at the curve of his right eyebrow. It didn’t used to be there before and you wondered how he’d got it. Had he been in a fight? The light stubble along his jaw fascinated you. Sam hadn’t shaved in a couple of days. Back when you lived together, a few days of ignoring the razor barely made any difference. Maybe he’d been too young then. A boy barely twenty-five. He wasn’t young anymore. The lines on his face and the wisdom behind his now closed eyes was enough to prove that.

You wanted to run your hand over the stubble, curious to feel the texture. However, you were afraid that even the slightest of motions might wake him up. It would be sinful to disturb his peace. Selfishly, you were glad to use the reason to remain here longer. Noting little things around you. The feel of the sheets you were wrapped in, the texture of Sam’s t-shirt. You must’ve fallen asleep before him and Sam must’ve left the bed at some point, because a jar of water stood on the table next to your side. Also, Sam wore a light grey cotton shirt. You knew for sure he wasn’t wearing one when you’d fallen asleep.

It was in the little things- how he’d apologised for stripping away your wet clothes, and for what he’d done to warm you later on. You felt heat rise to your cheeks at the thought. Yes, this fell in line with Sam’s kindness- typical to apologise for saving your life because he thought he was being _impolite._ He’d been physically very careful last night, wrapping you in sheets and minimising the skin to skin contact the moment he was sure you’d be okay. So, of course he’d thrown on a shirt. The only not careful thing had been the kiss. Your body started to feel like jelly at the mere thought of the kiss, his lips, his fingers digging into your arms. It had been everything you could’ve imagined and so much more.

Slowly, the reason occurred to you. 

Sam had bared it all last night- his anger, hurt, frustration and above all… his love. You hadn’t said a word about returning it. Fervently, you were glad you hadn’t, that Sam had stopped you before you could go around making grand confessions. Not because you were in any way unsure of your feelings for Sam. What an absurd concept that you should ever not be in love with him! But because there was too much to unpack. If being alone all these years had taught you anything, it was that only _you_ could fix yourself. Others could help, but unless you were first willing to get better… no one else could do a damn thing for you.

You understood Sam’s anger, and part of you suspected that a bit of that anger remained, despite all his words last night. And yet, you were sure that staying in Lawrence wouldn’t have solved anything. Sam would have destroyed himself day and night trying to get you back up on your feet and it wouldn’t have worked.

You needed to be away from home, to begin healing. Home wasn’t just Lawrence, home was Sam. Your bubble had let you heal physically, let you grow in your career while cushioning the emotional damage till you were ready to face it. You knew it in your gut that if you hadn’t had the backing of over six years of picking yourself up each time you fell, last night would have killed you. Over the years, bit by bit, at your pace you had accepted your losses- Sam, Jo, Dean and Aunt El. All but one, until last night.

The pain was crippling as it came now, leaving you gasping for breath. Tears rolled down the side of your face. That tiny little thing- he never got to see the world. Never got to see how much his mom and dad loved him. Sam would’ve made a wonderful father. If you weren’t already in Sam’s arms, you would’ve broken down. A small whimper left your lips, still. Sam twitched in response.

No, it was a good thing you hadn’t said those three words back. It must have been heartbreaking for Sam to bare his soul without the reassurance of returned love, but for his sake, at least, you needed to shut up for now. Before Sam could begin to hope for a life together, he still needed to understand what living with you would entail. He wouldn’t just be giving up fatherhood completely, he’d need to understand you were a different person now- not nineteen anymore, or starry eyed. You were bent and broken. 

You wouldn’t insult his feelings by saying he was still in love with that nineteen year old girl. Because he hadn’t fallen in love with a body, he loved your soul. You might think differently, understand differently, but deep down you were still the same person in all the ways that mattered to him. Still, he needed to see that you lived with pain, physical and mental- consequences of the accident that took everything from you.

Above all, you had to explain to him how you still believed leaving was the right decision. And you knew he didn’t see it that way- maybe he never would. Until all those questions were settled, until you were sure beyond reason that you would be able to give him all the happiness, you couldn’t give him hope. Heartbreak was better than utter hopelessness. You would shield him as much as you could… from yourself.

Sam slept on… and looking at him, a love so powerful, enough to alter your soul burned through you again. You vowed to do whatever it took to heal yourself. For Sam, for your marriage. 

It would take time, surely, and right now, you didn’t even want to think about the complication the college situation created- what it would mean for you. Worse, what it might mean for Sam. These were two different worlds that shouldn’t have collided this way, had complicated everything. Sam still felt the same, familiar, but surely the past years must have changed him, too? He’d been desperate yesterday to fill in the blanks, to tell you about his past. Wouldn’t you want to know more?

You looked about yourself again, taking in the part of the room which was visible to you. The lawn and the streetscape beyond the huge bay window felt very familiar… you had seen the netted trampoline somewhere and the overgrown wisteria bushes. A memory was nagging your brain, trying to crawl out. But you were simply too tired from the grief, from the near drowning and what happened last night. Your brain was slow.

Deciding to shove the nagging thought away you turned in the circle of Sam’s arms to face him completely, look at him some more. The clock on the bedside table behind his head read 9:13 am. 

Shit! It was way past your wake up time. You were about to get up when something else caught your eye- a photo-frame, partially hidden behind the small digital clock. You had made out its outline last night. Only Sam’s hair was visible in the picture. Craning your neck, you tried to get a better view, stretching with the support of your elbow to raise yourself till the photo was completely visible.

In the picture, Sam sat on a bean bag. Behind him, the backdrop was unfamiliar, all glass, tall buildings visible beyond. Sam was laughing, eyes full of happiness and warmth. That’s not what caught your attention or made your heart drop. What did was the little boy in Sam’s arms, looking up at him with absolute adoration. He was a tiny little thing, tucked in Sam’s chest, his shy laugh frozen in the moment. You knew that expression all too well, those eyes, that laugh and the boy- Max.

**********

The quick jerk woke Sam up. Something about the action already had him on alert as his eyes found Y/N. She was sitting up besides him. Sam didn’t know what he had expected, but it definitely wasn’t the stark shock on her face. Her eyes were trained behind him.

Sam followed her gaze and found it locked on the photo besides his bed- one of him and Max. Chase had clicked it in LA. Sam hadn’t known Max was smiling up at him till the developed pictures were in his hands. 

He felt the blood drain from his face. She shouldn’t have found out now, not this way.

“Y/N-” he started but she was already out of the bed and on her feet. Before he could so much as get out himself, she had drawn on his pants- the ones he had left out last night.

“Max… Is he your son?”

“Y/N-”

“Is he your son?”

“Yes,” he whispered. “But you’ve got to let me explain-”

She shook her head, face still blank with shock. “I need to go… I need to get out.”

“Y/N-” he tried again, helplessly, but she was already moving through the door. Sam was too stunned for a moment to react, when his body caught with the brain, he was already late. He still ran after her, down the stairs, up the living room and out of the main door. Y/N wasn’t stopping, wasn’t looking back, but Sam wasn’t giving up. He followed her across the yard, calling out and onto the sidewalk. She had to listen to him, had to let him explain. Few more strides and Sam would’ve caught up to her… if it hadn’t been for another call.

“Dad?” 

Turning around, Sam saw Max standing behind him, at the entry of their driveway. He wore his favourite blue pajamas, his backpack strapped to his shoulders. It held his clothes and his grey blanket. Sam’s head whipped from him to Y/N, who was moving farther away.

“Is that Y/N?” Max asked, peering around Sam’s body. “Y/N! It’s me, Max! Y/N?”

Sam saw Y/N’s step falter. She stopped. For a split second, she almost turned her body, then with a determined jerk started running again, barefoot on the concrete. This time Sam did not follow. He simply watched as ran away from him one more time.

Sam felt a tug at his sleeve and saw Max’s worried face. “Why is she running away? Stop her!”

“Let her go, Max,” Sam said slowly.

“But-”

“No buts.” Sam crouched down before his son. He couldn’t leave Max alone. It felt like his heart was being torn into two with each step that Y/N took away from him. Though, when it was a matter of choosing to stay with his son or run after her- there wasn’t a choice at all. Sam knew that. 

“Lets go inside,” he said. “We’ll figure out what to do about Y/N later, okay?”

He could see Max wanted to protest, but one look at Sam’s face took the fight out of him. Sometimes Sam wondered if it was even possible to be understood this intrinsically. Max understood Sam.

He hefted Max up in his arms, just as Y/N disappeared around the end of the street. Sam walked back into the house wondering if there would ever come a day when watching her leave him wouldn’t feel like the ending of the world.

* * *

**5th February 2012**

“Jesus, Chase,” Sam groaned. “What in the fresh hell is this?”

“I’m telling you, the drug dealer didn’t do it… at least not all by himself, anyway,” Chase pressed. “Don’t you want to look into the angle that Kirk just might have aided or at the very least abetted the murders? This was your idea!”

“It might help us put him back in.” Sam considered. Kirk getting out on bail was a constant thorn at his side. He was scared of leaving Max by himself for even a minute. Which was exactly what he was doing now, standing with Chase in the garage.

“Look, just come up. We’ll talk there,” Sam said, eyeing the lift. “Max is up there by himself.”

“No, I’ve to get back,” Chase said. “How’s he doing anyway?”

“Not good.” 

Sam had remained with Max in the hospital for two days. Eventually the child services had stepped in and taken Max away. He hadn’t cried this time or made a fuss, but there was an extinguishing hopelessness in his eyes. Max trusted Sam to try and keep his words, but he wasn’t hoping it might actually come to fruition. The child services hadn’t let Sam visit Max at the holding centre, making matters worse. By the time, a week later, Sam secured temporary custody, Max had grown real quiet. He wouldn’t even meet Sam’s gaze. It scared Sam beyond comprehension to see his eyes go blank like that. 

Sam did everything he could to get Max to talk again- bought him a new set of legos, read to him from every children’s book he could find. Nothing seemed to work. Late at night, Sam would find Max staring down at the city, head bowed against the glass. What was he seeing? Was Sam’s home another penthouse cage to him? When that happened, Sam would sit down besides Max. If he couldn’t put his kid to sleep, he could very well stay up with him.

It had been five days now, and Sam was out of his mind with worry. If only he could find some way to get the light back in Max’s eyes. 

“He’ll be okay,” Chase said, as if he was trying to console himself rather than Sam. “He has to be. He’s been through so much shit already…”

“Mail me everything you got on Kirk from the LAPD records. Everything,” Sam ordered. “I’m heading back up.”

“Alright, boss.” Chase waved, heading to his car. Sam ran back to the lift, barefoot and dressed in his sweats and T-shirt. Chase’s call had interrupted him trying to coax Max into eating lunch. What was supposed to be a five minute thing and had turned into a full-blown twenty minute conversation in the parking lot. 

The lift felt slower than usual as it climbed one floor at a time and finally opened into his foyer. The moment, Sam stepped out, he heard voices through the open door of his apartment. Sam’s heart stopped. Sprinting, he reached the door in two long bounds, mind already in overdrive about how to save Max if it was Kirk. The scene that met his eyes, stopped him mid-stride.

Max was laughing. Not smiling or snickering like Sam had seen before, but full blown laughing, his eyes reducing to slits, teeth shining in the light. In front of him was a huge pickup truck model, the sort that Max could sit in if he squeezed. He wasn’t alone. Sitting next to him, with a hand on his back was Dean. He yanked a lever on the truck, and the backside of the truck detached and fell to the side, making Max laugh all over again.

“That is not how you do it,” Dean warned. “I’m better at this in real life, I swear.”

“Do it again!” Max pushed the truck at Dean, who studiously put it back together and then went through the whole process of dismantling it once more.

Max laughed with as much gusto. This time he put the truck back together.

“Dang, you’re a smart kid!” 

The boy grinned at the compliment. 

Sam’s legs were on the verge of giving out. He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t face his brother. 

On the phone call, Dean had insisted on driving to LA, but Sam had pleaded with him not to. There were things he needed to get done and if he saw his brother, Sam knew he would fall apart- like he was about to now.

Max held up the truck compartment, showing Dean that he’d managed to do it. His eyes fell on Sam standing in the corner.

“Sam, look!” Max called, showing him the truck. Then he frowned and pointed at Dean. _“He_ got it for me.”

Dean followed Max’s gaze to find Sam, still standing at the door, frozen. 

Sam knew there would be empathy in those green eyes- empathy and love.

“You know, Max,” Dean said. “Your dad’s pretty lousy. You don’t just leave little kids by themselves, no matter if your lifts are password protected!”

“Dad?” Max considered the word.

Sam hadn’t had the adoption talk with Max yet, not sure how to explain the concept to him. He forced his legs to move and came to sit on the floor next to his kid, not meeting Dean’s gaze.

“Are you my new dad?” Max asked, eyes round.

Simmons didn’t deserve even the memory of this kid. “I’m your _only_ dad,” Sam said. He watched Max’s brow furrow as he balanced the word in his mind. “And this-” Sam said, meeting Dean’s gaze for the first time, “-is your uncle Dean.”

Max’s face blanched at the mention of the word ‘uncle.’ He instinctively pushed himself into Sam’s stomach.

“You know, Sammy, you were a cute, chubby little kid. But I gotta say, man, this guy over here? He threw you out of the damn race.”

“I know,” Sam croaked.

Dean nudged at a paper bag next to him. From inside he pulled out a Tupperware with pieces of pie. “Your aunt Jo sent this for you.”

Max dug into the pie with a fervor.

“Aunt?” Sam asked.

Dean tilted his head. “Well, would-be aunt. I proposed about a year ago and she said ‘yes,’ but we couldn’t have a wedding without my bestman, now, could we?”

That got to Sam, his eyes started stinging. He put his face in his hands. “Dean, I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,”

He felt a hand on his shoulder as he started to shake, and then Dean drew Sam into a hug.

“You don’t have to say sorry. I understand.”

Why? Why was Dean _this_ understanding? He should be hurling abuses, telling Sam what an awful brother he’d been.

“I got something for you, too,” Dean said. “Jo thinks you should have it.”

Sam looked up to see Dean holding a soft gray blanket- Sam’s blanket. He jerked up and away from it. It had been Dean’s wedding gift to Y/N. He couldn’t possibly claim it for Max.

“She would’ve wanted you to have it,” Dean said, softly. “No matter what happened, she loved you, Sam. She would want you to be happy with Max.”

“You really believe that?” Sam asked in a withering voice, grasping at the blanket like a raft thrown to a drowning man.

“She knew you’d make a great father,” Dean said. “So, I’m sure she would want Max to have it.”

All it did was made Sam cry harder, in a way that he hadn’t since he’d lost his unborn baby. Dean held him tight, as if he could piece Sam’s life together by the sheer force of his strength. 

“It’s going to be okay,” Dean said, running his hands over Sam’s back. All the lies that Sam had told about being happily married for the adoption, all the times he’d swallowed back bile looking at Max’s scars came crashing down upon him now. He himself was a damaged man, how could he shoulder the responsibility of another life? There was no Y/N to guide him with the right thing. She wasn’t going to guide him with where the furniture went or if the city was a good place to raise a child after all.

It was all him.

As he felt the wetness of his brother’s tears against the fabric of his shirt, Sam realised with a fierce joy that he didn’t have to be by himself. He had Jody who worked tirelessly to make sure that Max came to Sam. He could move out of LA, maybe take up a visiting job at Stanford like Jody had suggested. He didn’t have to raise his kid in a glass cage of a house that reminded him of the penthouse he’d grown up in. They could live in a small house, with a fence and huge lawn, so far away from the city that had never been kind to Max.

In another moment of clarity, Sam just knew that he’d have Stacey and Chase to help him with work, they’d understand if he faltered and pick up the slack. Most of all, Sam had Dean back, his iron pillar strength. All Sam had to do was reach out and his brother would catch him before he fell to the ground.

It seemed foolish to have kept Dean at bay. As if Sam could ever even be himself without his brother’s hand on his back.

“Hey,” Dean said gently. “First rule of parenting- don’t let your kid see you fall apart like that. You’re scaring him.”

Dean was right, after all Sam had never seen Dean lose it in front of him when they were growing up. Sam raised his head to see that Max truly looked scared and confused. His eyes were floating with tears because Sam’s were. The pie lay forgotten to the side.

Max saw the break between Dean and Sam’s body and threw his hands around Sam’s middle, letting go.

“Don’t cry,” he said. “I don’t like it. Don’t cry.”

Something that had been essentially broken inside Sam, started to knit itself back together as he carded his finger through Max’s messy hair. This was what it meant to be a father. No matter how he felt, what Max felt would always be the bigger priority from now on. No matter what Sam wanted, what was best for Max would be the only way of looking at things.

Sam wiped his tears furiously. “Hey, Max, look, I’m not crying anymore. Stop crying. We don’t want uncle Dean to think we’re just a bunch of cry babies here, do we? Let’s finish the pie.”

It took some more cajoling, but Max finally stopped crying and picked up his pie again. Before digging in he offered a piece to Sam.

“Say thank you to your uncle Dean.”

“Thank you, unca Dean,” Max said shyly, then held out a piece to him as well.

Dean was clearly touched both by what Max had called him and by his selfless gesture. “This kid really is something,” he said, awed.

“You say thank you to unca Dean,” Max instructed Sam.

“Thank you,” Sam said. Two words were too small.

Dean sighed, “You don’t have to thank me Sam, just… don’t push me away, ever again. Promise me you’ll call when you need me. ”

Sam nodded. Both of them had their eyes trained on the little boy busy with his pie. “I promise.”

* * *

Sam sat on the sofa with his head in his hands. His brain was tired going over the same questions again and again. What must Y/N be thinking? How would he explain Max’s story if she wasn’t even going to listen? Where would he begin? Should he call her? Or should he just knock on her door?

The answers to all those questions kept evading him, without knowing for sure the answer to the first one. He _needed_ to know what she was thinking.

Thankfully, Max hadn’t asked him any more questions. He had quietly gone to bed for his afternoon nap, leaving Sam to pick up the scraps of Y/N’s clothes from last night and fix the mess that was his bedroom. 

Now, he didn’t know what else to do. The image of her running away from him was hounding Sam, torturing him. So much for promising to love her last night- Sam hadn’t even stopped her from running away. Max had called out to her… and she still hadn’t stopped. 

This was a mess that Sam knew he simply couldn’t fix. There was only one way, one person to turn to.

He picked up his phone and punched the number slowly, letting it ring.

“Sammy?” 

Sam’s voice threatened to break. “Dean. I need you.”

His brother’s voice changed from jovial to dangerous in a second flat. “What happened?”

Sam didn’t attempt to hide the ache in his words. “There’s something I didn’t tell you. Something you need to know…”


	32. Chapter 32

“Dammit, Y/N! Open the door!”

You stared at the door of your bedroom but didn’t otherwise make a move. This was the fourth time in the day that Meg was banging on the door. After a few attempts she would go away. You weren’t sure you could face her right now.

Sure enough, the banging stopped. 

You had just closed your eyes again when quieter raps sounded and a kinder, softer voice spoke. “Y/N, it’s me. Open the door for a little while. Please?” 

Cas. 

You sighed. 

Dragging yourself out of the bed, you finally opened the door.

Cas stood in front of you. By the looks of it, he had just come back from his shift. He looked relieved to see you.

Behind him Meg threw a curse. “And now she opens the door! What the fuck, Y/N? Do you realise what day it is? Sunday! You’ve been locked in that room for almost two days now! And you left your phone here… it’s been blowing up! That chick, Madison, she called like fifteen times before I picked up. She said you almost drowned?”

All you could do was stare at them dully. The party, that pool… all of it seemed months ago instead of a couple of days.

“I told her you were okay,” Meg said, voice a few octaves lower. “But the fuck would I know why you were locked up inside!”

Cas took a step forward and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Y/N? Are you okay?” His concern made you respond.

“I’m just tired,” you croaked, voice raspy still from having inhaled all that water. “Drowning does that to a person I’ve been told.”

Gently, Cas guided you to the sofa. “Sit here. Let me take a look at you.”

You did. Cas tugged down your eyelids, checked your pulse and temperature. Somehow he had a pen flashlight in his pocket. He made you open your mouth wide to take a look at your throat.

“Ah,” he winced lightly. “Sore?”

You nodded.

“What happened?” Meg asked point blank.

“I went to a party. An asshole threw me in the pool. I froze.”

“Shit.” You had never heard Cas curse before. “Your skin is hypersensitive to cold. You could’ve… you could’ve…”

“Died,” you finished his sentence. One cardiac arrest was enough of a reminder. “I wasn’t in the water for long… Sa- Someone pulled me out.”

Cas let out a breath. Over him Meg had gone white, in fury or fear, you couldn’t be sure. 

Surprising you, Cas reached out and pulled you into a hug. You felt him gulp loudly. “If something had happened to you-”

“Nothing did,” you rasped, reaching out to pat his back.

“Bless the soul of whoever pulled you out,” Cas said and you stiffened.

Pulling back you gave Meg a reassuring look. “I’m fine, really. I just needed to sleep it off.” More than that, you needed an escape from the world, to come to terms with the grief, pain and acceptance… of Sam’s words and his reality. Being by yourself was a default setting now, the only way to reboot your brain into being functional.

Meg didn’t come over to hug you, she simply nodded and handed your phone back. “Keep this with you and for heaven’s sake don’t lock your door tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Have you eaten anything?” Cas enquired. Before you could shake your head, Meg moved towards the kitchen. She grabbed a bowl of hot chicken soup and put it in front of you. Meg’s expression was so formidable, you started on the soup without uttering a word of protest.

The bowl was nearly empty when Cas spoke next, his voice unsure. “Er… Y/N?”

“Yeah?”

“I happened to look into the records today, at the psych ward for the new social worker they’re hiring, and out of curiosity I checked out for our little friend.” He exchanged a loaded glance with Meg. “His name is Max Winchester. Did you know that he was-”

“Sam’s kid? Yeah. Found out yesterday morning.” Your voice was without any inflection, toneless. 

Meg’s lip curled upwards. “That bastard cheated on you and had a kid! How can you be so calm about it?”

The words brought you up short. “Cheated?”

“Look at how old that boy is,” she said forcefully. “Do the math!”

You had.

“That son of a bitch has it coming from me,” Meg growled. “He’s dead.”

“Meg.” you said as calmly as you could. “Sam didn’t cheat on me. I don’t know Max’s story but I know for a fact that he isn’t Sam’s son biologically.” 

It was a whole other thing when you thought you weren’t married anymore, you could have imagined other girls in his life. But everything was different now. Sam Winchester did not have a cheating bone in his body. Not when you were married, and not in the years since. Your entire being was a hundred percent sure that you were the only woman to sleep in his bed in the last seven years. If he had ever betrayed your trust like that- which he couldn’t have- Sam wouldn’t be able to face himself in the mirror, let alone stand in front of you and look you in the eye.

Where Max came from was a mystery. Despite that, even though he didn’t have Sam’s blood in his body, Max was without doubt Sam’s son. You should have guessed it immediately. It was all over the place- the way Max framed his words, his thoughts and even goodbyes. He had Sam’s kindness in his eyes and laughter on his lips. No wonder he’d triggered such primal familiarity in you from day one. This was why you had started loving Max.

He’d called out your name in front of Sam’s house yesterday. The memory of the call was haunting you. 

“Y/N-” 

You knew Meg wouldn’t believe you, but right now, you couldn’t bring yourself to explain it to her. 

“I’m heading to bed,” you said. “I have a long day tomorrow. And don’t worry I won’t lock the door.”

You closed the door in the face of a very concerned Cas and a furious Meg.

**********

You made sure that you were just in time for the first lecture on Monday. Professor Mcleod was already on the dais. Entering from the back, you took a corner seat in the last row- far away from where you usually sat. The girl sitting next to you gave you a quick smile and explained in a low whisper how Professor Mcleod had permanently swapped the morning lecture with Mr. Winchester. Civil Procedure would be the first class after lunch on Mondays from now on.

The lecture was a presentation of case studies. Thankfully your turn never came. Madison had been restless throughout. You could see her turn and twist her body till she finally spotted you in the last row. A relieved smile spread across her lips. You tried to return it, but weren’t sure your face actually moved.

After the lecture, Madison hurried up the rows, taking two steps at a time. 

“Thank goodness, you’re okay,” she fussed over you. “You had me so scared when you didn’t reply to any of your texts. Your roommate finally picked up the call. She told me you were sleeping.”

“I’m sorry, Maddie. I was just really tired.”

You were sure you looked as terrible as you felt. But you also felt awful about worrying Madison so much. Uncanny the way empathy completely left the building when one was preoccupied with their own grief.

“Are you alright now? You look… sick.”

“No, I’m fine,” you lied. Fine was a relative word.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you to that party, Y/N,” She said, eyes starting to fill up. “It’s all my damn fault.”

You tried to come up with words to console her, but just then professor Mills entered the class and everyone fell silent.

“We’ll talk later, okay?”

She nodded.

The hours passed too quickly and too soon the lunch break was upon you. Funny how time worked, passing in a fluke when you weren’t looking forward to a particular thing. For you dreaded Sam’s lecture. 

“I’m not hungry,” you told Madison, when she circled back to you in the lunch hour, not having found you at the mess.

Madison nodded to herself. “You don’t want to see anyone, I get it. But don’t skip lunch. We’ll go out to one of the bistros outside.”

Again, arguing seemed like too much work, so you simply gave in. 

_Just get through the day, just get through the day._

Of course, nothing ever went according to the plan. Outside in the corridor, you ran into Rebecca, Lacey and… Brad.

Clenching your jaw, you walked right past them.

“Hey, Y/N!” Brad followed you. That asshole had the nerve to even utter your name. You did not turn around or stop walking.

Brad kept up easily, blocking your way. “At least, listen to me.”

“Don’t you fucking dare to utter my name!” You hissed. The gut-wrenching pain of reliving the night of the accident still threatened to floor you. “Move aside.”

Brad did not move. “Look, I’m sorry, okay? I forgot about your…. uhh … condition. I didn’t mean to… you know, get you cold or something.”

“Brad, back off!” Madison said, fiercely. “You’ve done enough damage already!”

“What’s your problem, Maxwell?” Brad rounded on her.

Rebecca strode ahead. “Yeah, since when do you represent her, Madison? I’m sure she can fucking speak for her own case.” Rebecca turned to you. “We all know you were hamming it up, Y/N! What with the blubbering and shaking like a tree in a tornado. You got what you wanted- to have the sexy professor fondle your-”

“Rebecca!” Madison gasped, shocked.

You? You had barely grasped any of their words, not Rebecca’s filled with vitriol, or Madison’s protective ones. For, across the small spillover space in front of the corridor, and behind the entrance building, the hood of a shiny black car was just visible. The glossy body caught the sun at the exact right angle, flashing a blinding gold. 

Next moment, your feet were moving towards it, the scene and people behind you completely disappearing as you ran across the neatly manicured grass. Not caring that your body was still recovering, that your feet were shaking. The more you ran, the more you could see of the car. Your sight fogging with both the hope and fear in your chest… the former emotion so strong that you were sure you would be reduced to a mess on the ground if proved false.

Madison’s voice and another called your name from behind. You could feel her pursuit, but in that moment you simply didn’t care. When you made the bend of the entrance building, the rest of the black car came into view and so did the man leaning against it. His arms were crossed over his chest, so were his legs at the ankles with pronounced lines on his forehead. At the sight of him, you ran faster, tripping over air in the hurry to get him. 

When he saw you, green eyes sparkled, lips stretching into a smile that you could barely make out through your blurred vision. His arms stretched wide just in time for you to slam into his chest. The force knocked him against the car.

Dean lifted you up and swung you around in the tightest hug. You broke down completely, reduced to loud, dragging sobs, crying the way someone would after losing a loved one. You had. Dean’s hand reached out to cradle your head from behind and you felt the brush of his lips at your temple.

“Hush, sweetheart,” he said, crushing you to his chest. “I’m here now. You don’t have to cry anymore.”

A thousand memories flashed through your mind- Dancing with Dean under soft lights, Dean laughing in the lawn as he mowed it, sitting with him in the Impala laughing at Sam’s antics, looking at their childhood pictures together. Dean kissing your cheek, his ear on your belly feeling the kicks, the love in his eyes when he looked at you. Dean in the kitchen, flipping burgers with an apron that read world’s best uncle, the tears in his eyes in the hospital, the shivering of his fingers as they clutched yours, all of it came crashing down. This was it, the feeling of arriving home after the worst day of your life.

“Honey, you gotta stop crying,” he persuaded you gently. “I’ll hold you as long as you want, but you need to let yourself breathe.”

Slowly, it came to you, that you were in the middle of the college campus still, and were probably making a scene. You peeked from beneath Dean’s fingers to see a few people stopped in their tracks to ogle at you.

Making a forceful effort to control the heaving, you tried to break free so you could wipe your eyes. But Dean’s hand held still. “Just stay put. I’m not letting you go,” he said. “Not now when I’ve just found you. Sorry it took me so long, kiddo. I left as soon as I could, but you know how the traffic on 1-70 sucks. To top it off, they had a lane closed on I-80. Drove the whole night but finally made it to you, huh?”

All it did was make you cry harder.

“Here,” he handed you his napkin, merely adjusting you a bit so your head was resting against his shoulder. You wiped your watery face with it, taking in the smell of leather, coffee and the slight bitter smell of whiskey- Dean. 

A few feet behind Madison was standing uncertainly, and even further behind the rest of those jerks. Looking at them, you snuggled closer to Dean and as if feeling your emotion, he tightened his arm over you protectively.

“That them?” A dangerous edge overtook his voice. Dean knew the whole story.

You nodded, not looking at Brad. His face reminded you of the icy cold and the utter humiliation of cringing on the cold tile floor. If Sam hadn’t found you…

“His nose is asking to be broken,” Dean snarled quietly. “Stay here. I’ll be back.”

“N- No.” You clutched the edges of his jacket. “Don’t leave me.” You were the safest in Dean’s arms.

A small sigh. 

“You want to get out of here, then?” He asked. 

“Y/N,” Madison said hesitantly, “Professor Winchester’s class is about to start. He’s right over there.” Her head jerked in the direction of the corridor. Sure enough Sam was standing under the eave. From this far, you couldn’t know for sure, but his face held an indecipherable expression.

Dean raised his head and met Sam’s gaze evenly, his fingers curled around your shoulder defensively.

“Oh, screw him,” Dean said, dismissive. Surprised, you looked up to see his green eyes, though wet, were dancing with mischief. “Ditch the class. He’ll live.” He bent down and whispered in your ears. “You _know_ who the fun Winchester is!”

A giggle burst through your lips and you pressed your forehead against Dean’s chest. “Yeah, let’s go.”

**********

You ended up sitting on one of the benches in the playground opposite to your building. It was closer than any of the campus parks. Dean had an arm slung over your shoulder and you were leaning against his side, content in the silence for the moment.

After a while, Dean spoke. “How you doing, kiddo?”

You wanted to keep listening to voice, keep touching him all the time just to be sure he was real, and that he wouldn’t disappear in a poof of smoke. You reached out to hold his hand.

“I am… as well as I can be, I guess. How’re you?”

Dean sighed. “Better now.”

“And Jo? How’s Jo?” Your voice broke.

Dean shook his head, exasperated. “I swear, you sisters are just the same. Jo’s fine, Y/N. She worries about you endlessly, but, yeah, she’s good.”

The questions didn’t stop. One more burst out before you could stop it.

“What’s Max’s story?” This one had been eating at you for a while, even before you knew he was Sam’s kid. The scars on his hands, his face, they hadn’t let you sleep a dreamless night. 

You felt Dean stiffen. He released you ever so lightly so he could see your face. His green eyes were Sad. “Sam’s been losing his mind. He thinks you might’ve jumped to the worst conclusions.”

It was your turn to sigh. “He thinks I’d doubt his loyalty? Wow, he really doesn’t have any faith left in me.”

“Can you blame the guy?” Dean raised an eyebrow. “For all he knows, you might be a different person now. Why would you trust him?”

“But I knew _that_ Sam. I know how old Max is. Yes, he lived in New York for most part of the week, while I was stuck in Lawrence. That doesn’t mean I’ll think he cheated. I never would. How can he _think_ that?”

“Well, you thought he got the marriage annulled!”

That shut you up real quick.

“There’s no rulebook on how to fix relationships. I wish it was like fixing a car. Just get down and sort it right up, but it isn’t. These things take time. Six years is a longass time. You’re going to have to learn to understand each other all over again. You should’ve heard him on the phone, Y/N. Sam was frantic.”

“He didn’t tell me about Max! He should’ve,” you persisted, petulantly.

“Yes, he should have,” Dean agreed. “And I think he was going to… but, Sam… You have to understand, he’s _very_ protective of Max. I know the fear of losing that kid haunts him day and night.”

The fear of losing one more kid.

“What is the deal with Max?” you asked again, point blank.

Dean drew in both of your hands in his. “Sam was working in LA when this richass movie producer and his girlfriend bit it. The girl’s candy man did it. Bloody affair. And this kid, God, Y/N. You and I, we’ve both had messed up childhoods, but this is straight out of a goddamned horror story.”

The hair on his arm was standing up and he had a ghastly expression on his face.

“Who did it?” You said through clenched teeth, “Who did _that_ to Max?”

Dean spoke through gritted teeth. “The question should be- who didn’t?”

Bile was rising to your throat, the nails of your fingers were digging into your palms at the very thought. 

“The worst of it was dealt by the producer’s brother- this dickwad Kirk Simmons. Sam had to fight tooth and nail to keep custody.”

Simmons… Why did that name sound familiar?

“Wait, is this that sensationalised case? The one that was all over the papers?”

“Yep, that’s the one. Those two that died? Max’s biological parents. He was sleeping in a cupboard upstairs when the dealer skewered the two. Turns out that Kirk asshole had paid him to do it.”

The ordeal was petrifying. You couldn’t bring your mind to come to terms with the terrible things Max must have been through. 

“And they just let Sam keep him?”

Dean shook his head. “That was a harrowing battle of its own. Max has been living with Sam for about two and a half years now. But I think he was legally adopted only a year ago or so. There were a lot of problems, the biggest of which was-” Dean paused, giving you a cautionary look.

“Sam’s single… kind of,” you said. 

“Yes,” Dean let out a huff, relieved you were on the same page. “There was a lot of lying through the teeth, and clever legal work-” he shrugged. “Or so I’ve been told.”

He went on to tell you how Sam furnished ironclad papers that prevented Max’s inheritance- which ran into several millions- from being transferred to anyone else. Sam or his family, even after the adoption, can’t lay claim to a single penny. The money would directly fall to Max when he turned twenty-one and did not cover his health or educational expenses, which would entirely remain Sam’s responsibility. The papers were the first step to convincing the jury that Sam did not have an ulterior motive. It further helped that Sam was rich, himself.

“Your consent for the fosterhood was sort of assumed. Sam didn’t want to. I convinced him that you wouldn’t mind the lying if something good came out of it for Max.”

“Course not.”

Dean gave you a satisfied smile, then his brow furrowed. “If you knew Max wasn’t Sam’s biological son, why did you run away? You could’ve let him explain?”

The answer was shameful. Not wanting to face Dean, you ducked back into his chest. “I- I was angry at Sam. I just didn’t want to believe that he had what I couldn’t have for all these years. What I couldn’t give him. I was jealous, Dean… jealous that he got to raise a child when I didn’t and betrayed that he did it without me. I’m not proud of it. After all, I was the one who packed and left… never even looked back. Sam should be the one to be mad.“

You felt Dean shake his head over yours. “I thought it was something like that,” he said softly. 

“I couldn’t have given him that… I left because of it. And he? He got to live that life anyway!” It was so difficult to put what you felt into words- the anger, the hurt and worst of all the envy. “Look at Max!” You cried out in anguish. “I would have died to have a son like him!”

“I know, sweetheart,” Dean soothed. “It’s twisted. All Sam ever wanted out of his life was to live it with you, see you work your way up the college ladder. He never got to see that. All you wanted was to raise a family with him. And you didn’t get to see that. It’s cruel and you _should_ feel angry.”

“It’s very kind of Sam to save Max the way he did,” you said after a while.

Dean looked at you sharply. “Sam didn’t save Max… Max is the one who saved him.”

You blinked up at him, unable to understand. “But you just said… Sam adopted him.”

“It’s more complicated than that, Y/N,” Dean finally said. He looked tired. “I’m not sure you want to know.”

Things were starting to slowly fall into place. Sam’s words from your drunk night came back to you in a moment of clarity- _“And I’ve hardly been a good person since.”_

“Dean, what happened after… after I left?”

He didn’t say anything at first. His eyes roved all over your face, carefully dissecting your expression. “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

“I want to know. I can handle it.”

Something in your expression must’ve changed, because Dean turned his face away, staring at the basketball court in front of you, a faraway look in his eyes. “After you left, we turned the place, town upside down, that’s what happened. For days at a stretch, we drove everywhere we could think of- motels, parks, hospitals… just everywhere, trying to find you. Ellen camped at your gran’s house for a week straight. And Sam?” Dean’s eyes hollowed out. He was trying not to dwell on what he was saying. It must’ve been _bad._

“I’ve never seen him like that. _Demented_ is the word.” Dean shuddered. “He wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t drink. Heck, he wouldn’t do anything except look for you. Sam drove all the way to Texas, flew to all the university towns you had acceptances from. It was like watching a machine go through the desperate motions of wanting to survive. He crashed on my couch, refusing to go into that house. I had the house cleared. Stored all your things in my store room.”

“Did he ever give up?” You whispered.

“A month and a half later,” Dean confirmed. “We were moving the last bit of your furniture out of the leased house when Sam stormed in, picked the fire poker and wrecked the piano. Wouldn’t stop till the keys were separated from the pins and pins from the dampers. That instrument lay in a wreckage of wood and metal when Sam was done. And only then did he allow himself to cry, sitting on the floor in the middle of it all. It was awful, Y/N. I still have nightmares. I couldn’t do anything but watch him go to pieces. I’ve never felt that _helpless_ in my life- not even when Sam was six months old and our parents were dead.”

You were frozen in place listening to Dean.

He gulped and straightened the lines of pain on his forehead, “Next day, he packed up his things and moved to New York for good.”

“That piano… that beautiful piano,” you murmured. How he’d play as many songs as you wanted on it. “It was your mother’s.”

Dean’s eyes held ancient sadness. “It was. I don’t think Sam’s ever forgiven himself for it. I still keep the pieces in the storeroom, but neither of us has been down there to take a peek at it.”

“I-” Words failed you, choked on their way out. “At least, he got it all out, the anger.”

“You’d think,” Dean scoffed. There was no mirth in his gesture, only bitterness. “At first, we all thought maybe it was for the best. Some distance from the memories would do him good and if he kept busy in work, it might help him overcome the grief.”

“It didn’t help?”

“No.” Dean’s voice was grim. “He called a few times in the first month to check in, then once a month, but I think that house reminded him too much of you. The following year, he moved to LA. I hoped things would take a turn for better, but it just got worse.

You were almost too scared to ask. “What happened?”

Dean rubbed his face with his hands, exhausted. “He wasn’t the Sam I knew anymore. We called and called but he just wouldn’t pick up. After the first few weeks, I was so terrified something was wrong with him, I drove all the way to LA to see for myself if he was okay… and Y/N. That man, that wasn’t our Sam. That was some other guy, looking like him, walking in his shoes. His eyes were so ruthless.” Dean shuddered again. “I kept calling, hoping he would pick up one day. I used to drive over a few times a year just to check on him- Sam doesn’t know. I couldn’t face him, knowing what he’d become. What I couldn’t save him from. All that anger- it didn’t let his pain die out. And the pain just fueled the anger.”

What Dean was saying seemed impossible to you. You had seen Sam, talked to him. There was nothing but empathy and compassion in his eyes. And in his work. You’d worked James’s pro bono with him.

“If he hadn’t found Max when he did, we would’ve lost Sam forever, Y/N. I’m sure of it,” Dean said. “Max gave him a chance to love again, he gave Sam the chance to fix him, something Sam never got to do for you. I think that brought him back to himself. I still remember that night in January of 12’ when Sam finally picked up my call and cried, blubbering about this little boy he’d found.”

Dean looked at you. “It’s why I’ll just ask this one thing from you. Don’t be mad at Sammy for choosing to keep Max. I get the anger, the envy, I do. But it was his way of choosing to _live._ God knows what would have happened to either of them without each other.”

Again, shame welled up inside you, made you feel like a despicable piece of crap. How could you not wish this happiness for Sam? Of course you did! The knot of pain and bitterness inside you dissolved as you looked up at Dean and nodded. His answering smile was dazzling.

“Dean, aren’t you angry with me?

His brows furrowed in surprise. “Course not.”

When you narrowed your eyes in disbelief, he reached out to muss your hair. “Remember what I told you at your Gran’s funeral?”

You whispered the words slowly, _“You have to take care of yourself first, before you can take care of anyone else.”_

“Exactly,” he said. “If you hadn’t left- and I know Sam doesn’t agree with me on this one- I think things would’ve been way worse. You can’t go back and question the _‘what ifs’_ now.”

The next question must have been clear on your face, because Dean sighed. “No, Jo’s not angry either, but it wasn’t pretty for her.”

You hung your head. “If she’s not mad, why didn’t she come with you?”

Dean hesitated. “It’s because I didn’t tell her I was coming to see you. Or that Sam’s found you. I wanted to be sure that you were okay with meeting her. Couldn’t afford to give her false hope and take it away, especially now.”

“Especially now?” 

Dean’s hand came up to cup the side of your face. The words that followed, softer than a feather. “Jo’s pregnant.”

It took a second to sink in, the next moment you threw your hands around Dean’s neck, eyes filling up again. “Dean… that’s… that’s fantastic. Oh my goodness! I’m going to be an aunt? This is incredible!”

You pulled back to see that Dean’s eyes were shining with love. “Yeah, it’s been great. It took us some time to get there, but we’re very happy.”

How could they not? Your heart was full to bursting. You were going to be an aunt! It was all you could do to not break into a dance then and there. 

“I want to meet her! I want to…” You paused. “Wait… why did you say it took you some time?”

Dean looked at you like you were missing the obvious point. “You know how much Jo loves you, right? She thought she was being disloyal by thinking about having children of her own.”

Blood roared in your ears. “That stupid, dumbass girl!” You absolutely did not deserve these people in your life.

Dean shrugged. “I think Sam convinced her. It’s not hard to see what Max did for him- dragged him back from the dark side. Which is ironic, because when everyone kept pestering Sam over getting out there and start dating again- even Ellen, Jo never said a word.” Dean chuckled. “She is very loyal, that one. Twas’ a hard gamble for her, willing to see Sam live on by himself versus holding on to the hope that someday you might come back. She thinks it’s a wretched thing to do. But Sam appreciates her quiet more than she knows.” 

Such intricacies of emotions, so much suffering and over whom? You?

Getting to your feet, you wrenched out of Dean’s arms.

He stood up with you. “What’s the matter?”

“There’s something I need to set right.”

“Sam will be at work.”

You squared your shoulders. “It’s not Sam.”

**********

Max was sitting on the swing set in front of his house, dejectedly kicking at the dirt mound underneath, not really bothering to get the swing moving.

As quietly as you could, you sneaked up to him. On your very last step, Max looked up. His face brightened into a smile the moment he saw you and felt a stab in your gut. That odd instinct to hide this boy with your body and protect him from the world was so much stronger now than before. At least, now you understood it.

Walking to the front of the swing, you crouched down to Max’s level and tugged at your earlobes with both your hands. “I’m so sorry, Max. Will you forgive me?”

Max blinked his eyes. “Why’re you saying sorry?”

“You called out to me that day and I didn’t stop.” It had been a profane, sacrilegious thing to do. “I was upset and I didn’t want you to see me like that, but I shouldn’t have turned my back on you.” 

Max slid down from the swing. “It’s okay.” Then his face fell. “Dad says I can’t see you anymore.”

A thought that had been itching your brain came to the forefront. Sam had been the one keeping Max from you, sending those messages. At some point he must have figured out that you were Max’s new friend and decided to keep you away from each other- to protect Max or to protect you? Knowing Sam, the answer was probably both. It was so like him to suffer in silence and take the brunt of bullshit. 

So when you spoke, the words rang with exasperation. “I’ll deal with your dad. No one is going to keep you from seeing me, Sam Winchester included.”

Max was easy to please. He let out a loud whoop and threw his arms around you. “Thanks, Y/N!” 

Your heart thudded against your chest as his tiny hands clutched at your neck. The feeling was threatening to overwhelm you.

Pulling back, you looked him in the eye. “I didn’t just come over to say sorry. I come bearing a gift.”

“A gift?”

You grinned at him, and pointed to the side of the curb. “Look over there.”

A huge smile split Max’s face as he saw Dean standing there. “Uncle Dean!” Max sprinted at full speed till he was in Dean’s arms.

“There’s my little cookie monster!” Dean flung Max in the air. 

“You’re really here!” Max touched Dean’s face, then beckoned you over. “Look, Y/N, it’s uncle Dean!”

You wanted to laugh with Max, but the image of him balled up in a musty old wardrobe while two dead bodies rotted in the same house, wouldn’t let you. The marks on his hands, his face… what were they from? Slaps, belt bites, poker sticks? All breath seemed to leave your body at once.

“Y/N!” Max called again. “Uncle Dean’s taking us for a ride in _Baby!”_

No, you decided, you could never be angry with Sam for taking Max in. Hell, you wanted to find Sam and hug him, kiss his hands in gratitude for exactly that. 

Alex poked her head out of the window. You waved at her, which she returned.

When you climbed into Dean’s car, the familiar smell of leather hit you all at once in the face. Max tucked himself between you and Dean, excitedly showing you the little toy soldier stuck in the ashtray. “Dad put it in!”

Dean just gave him an indulgent look as the engine revved and the car cruised on to the road. Looking at Max trying to hold your attention, you decided that you were done running, from the past, from the pain… all of it. From now on you were going to face things head on, because everyone who loved you deserved it… and so did you.


	33. Chapter 33

“And, _this_ is my room.” You spread your arm with a flourish at the door, feeling like a kid showing their prize winning project to a parent.

Dean’s eyes roved over the cream coloured walls and dark brown curtains, finally settling on the book on your nightstand. He smirked. “You kept that one, huh?”

“Couldn’t bear to part with it.”

“Max has a weird obsession with that book just like you,” he commented, following you back to the living room. 

After taking you around Stanford in his car, Dean and Max had dropped you off at the library for your shift. Dean stayed over at Sam’s for the night and his car was parked in exactly the same place as yesterday after your last lecture today. You ran into his arms just the same. Everyone had left you to your business, not asking questions about Dean or what had happened- even Madison. 

Instead of taking a seat again, you took Dean around the campus, showing him your favourite places, the library and the quad. He must’ve taken this trip before with Sam, but Dean was just as attentive, proudly walking besides you. At last you ended up in your apartment. 

Just as you were showing him around in the meadow, you walked into Cas, Meg and Jack. You introduced your friends to him then turned to them.

“Guys,” you beamed. “This is Dean. He’s… Um… he’s my brother-in-law.”

“Sister’s husband or husband’s brother?” Jack asked, then smacked his head. “I’m sorry. You’re not married.”

Dean exchanged a quick glance with you but otherwise didn’t say anything. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Meg eyeing Dean. With a few greetings, they promised to see you in the apartment and you walked Dean to his car.

“Can’t you stay just one more day?” The moroness was hard to keep out of your voice.

“I wish I could, kiddo,” he said. “It just makes me nervous that Jo’s by herself over there.”

You shivered. “No, you’re right. You should go.”

He leaned in and pulled you into a hug. “You keep in mind what I said, yeah? Take care of yourself, first.” Dean’s voice almost sounded stern when he said that, before it mellowed out. “You decide to get back with Sam or not, that’s your call, but Jo and I will always be your family. Always. No matter what, okay?”

You nodded against his chest and he kissed the side of your head.

It was with moist eyes and a full heart that you watched the Impala cruise away, clutching on to the warmth of Dean’s love. You still had your family.

Meg and Cas were waiting for you in the living room. Cas looked concerned and Meg looked annoyed. You’d expected as much, their demand for an explanation.

“Sister’s husband or husband’s brother, Y/N?” Meg asked point blank.

Slowly you sat down on the sofa in front of them, took a deep breath. “Both,” you said. “Dean is Sam’s brother, but he’s also married to my cousin, Jo.”

Meg let out a whoosh of air. “What the-”

“Meg,” you said as steadily as you could. “Give me a minute and I’ll tell you everything. Sit down.”

She took a moment, then did as you told her. Two days ago, you didn’t think you had the courage to do this, but given your decision to not run away from things, these two people- who had stood by you always- deserved to know.

For over a quarter hour you spoke quietly, telling them everything from your parents death in a car crash, to meeting Sam and marrying him after finding out you were pregnant. You told them about Jo and aunt El and how they looked after you when Sam was in NY. When it came to the accident, that was the first time you met their eyes- both mirrors of shock. You continued further, telling them about the accident, the miscarriage, how the doctors removed your organs because they were too damaged and how you left Sam, left everyone. Your voice was mostly toneless, but it broke when you repeated everything Dean had told you about Sam and Max. By the time you were done, your throat was sore. Meg looked like she was about to go into a shock and Cas, his eyes were watery. 

“Look, I don’t want any sympathy or pity,” you said, eyes trained on the floor. “I don’t think I can even deal with kindness right now. I just… This was hard… but I had to come clear with you two.”

They were at such a loss of words that you gave them both a small smile. “I’m just going to go lie down for a bit, okay? See you at dinner?”

Cas, at least, nodded. You closed the door of your room and fell into the bed. Instead of sleeping, you started planning- How to fix things? You had a few thoughts about it, but before you could do any of that, you needed to talk to Sam.

* * *

Sam pushed his glasses up to his forehead and rubbed the corners of his eyes. Paul, his TA, sat before him, going through the draft assignments. 

“Er… Sam?”

Sam looked up to see Paul eyeing him curiously. “I think you should read through this one again. You might want to reconsider the marks you gave.”

“Which one is it?”

Paul read out the header. “Ricks Dawson vs. State of Missouri, 1993. It’s about civil infringement citing breach of fundamental rights. The case study is by Y/N. You remember her, right? That’s the girl who put you down in the sympathy vs empathy debate.” Paul chuckled at the memory. “No one’s ever put you down in an ethical debate before.”

“Maybe her ethics are stronger than mine.” Sam slid the glasses back on.

“Anyway, take a look at her case study again. I think you should mark her more.”

Paul waved the papers in front of him but Sam didn’t take them. “I remember that one. I just think she can do better.”

“She’s already better than everyone else!” Paul put his hands out.

“And she _is_ scoring more than everyone else.”

“Not enough. You should bump up the grade.”

“The class is yet to hand in the conclusion, right?” Sam asked and Paul nodded. 

“I’ll mark her better if she concludes it well.”

Paul sighed, giving Sam a look but put the paper away.

Maybe Y/N did deserve a bit more, maybe some other professor would have graded her higher. But Sam knew her actual potential. She _could_ do better. It was her unfortunate luck that she had him for a professor, who could never judge her objectively. The worst part was knowing she might have slacked because of him- because of what he was putting her through. And yet he couldn’t cut her slack because that wouldn’t be fair.

Y/N hadn’t tried to talk to him in the two days since Dean had left. No messages and no knocks. If it hadn’t been for Dean’s absolute reassurance that Y/N wasn’t angry with him, Sam would’ve lost his mind. She’d stopped by his house to apologise to Max for leaving when he’d called out to her. Sam appreciated her gesture more than he could put into words. For, Max had been humming and dancing on the balls of his feet knowing Y/N was back to being friends with him. He was smug about Y/N overstepping Sam’s rule of not letting Max meet her. 

Sam would be lying if he said it hadn’t broken his heart to see her crying in Dean’s arms. That girl had wanted nothing more than a family of her own… at least, she had Dean back in her life. Sam wasn’t sure how his brother would break it to Jo. She would be ecstatic. 

It led him to obsess over and over on why she hadn’t tried to talk to him, if Y/N wasn’t angry with him anymore.

A knock on his door made both Sam and Paul look up. 

“Come in!” He called.

The door opened and Meg stepped in. Sam immediately stood up, heart clenching in a frisson of anxiety. 

Meg, herself looked uneasy. She was glancing anywhere but at Sam.

“Hey, Paul, you mind giving us a moment?”

“Sure.” Paul hurriedly picked up the hardcopies, his laptop and left the room.

“Please have a seat,” Sam said, as politely as he could. Meg walked up to his desk but did not take a seat.

His heart was sinking. If Meg was here, Y/N was definitely a lot more upset than he had thought.

She took a deep breath and Sam braced himself for more yelling. 

“Sorry,” said Meg. The word hung in the air awkwardly, before she cleared her throat. “I- I came over to say sorry for last time. Y/N told me everything… about the past. All that stuff I said last time? It was uncalled for.”

Sam didn’t know what to say to that. This was the last thing he expected from Meg. “It’s… um it’s alright.”

Meg looked up, contrite. “It’s not. You should’ve asked me to butt out of your personal matter. Especially because I was wrong. Wrong about assuming what had happened and wrong to poke my nose in your business.”

“You were looking out for your friend.”

As peculiar as the whole conversation was, Sam felt glad it wasn’t about Y/N being distraught. 

“Why did you take it all in silence?” Meg questioned, scowling at his mahogany desk. “You could’ve easily shut me up, called me out on that bullshit.”

Sam blurted out the truth. “I believed you when you said I wasn’t any good for Y/N.”

“What’s changed now?”

He scoffed. “A friend gave me a piece of his mind. Said, I should stop assuming on Y/N’s behalf. Let her make her own decisions.”

Meg slapped a hand across her forehead, plopping down on the chair. “What a mess! Sorry doesn’t even cover it.”

It was Sam’s turn to slowly take his seat. He removed his glasses and placed them on the table before him. Sam wasn’t mad at Meg for making him doubt his motivations. He was mad at himself for having swayed so easily. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter anymore,” he said finally. 

“Of course, it does. You didn’t even tell her about me blasting you like that, when you totally could’ve.”

“And you shouldn’t either,” Sam cautioned. “It’s in the past now. All it’ll do is bring up unnecessary disquiet. Let’s just bury this between the two of us.”

She stared at him like he had grown another head.

“Meg, I know you did it because you’re protective of Y/N. That’s something I can relate to, so I don’t hold it against you. On the contrary, I’m glad she is friends with someone who goes out of their way to make sure she’s okay. So, really, let’s just forget this ever happened.”

After a minute Meg nodded. She got up from the chair.

“For what it’s worth, I think only _you_ could deserve her. And that’s a tall order.”

Sam stared at the door long after Meg was gone. He should be locking up the office and heading to Acton Gris right about now, but Meg’s words refused to leave him yet again. Sam knew he shouldn’t let her influence his thoughts again. But could it be true? Could he really deserve a chance with Y/N again?

Just as Sam was trying to squish the rising hope, his phone pinged, flashing Y/N’s name. His heart skipped a beat.

_*Playground opposite to my building at 6?*_

* * *

You sat at the edge of the parapet around this huge birch in the playground. The birch was so massive, it blocked out most of the sky behind it and the parapet was high enough that your feet dangled a couple feet over the ground. It was just past twilight, the sky a stunning magenta. You’d been sitting here for over an hour, with your hair down, letting the light breeze sweep it away from your face. No library, no classes, no assignments, just sitting here by yourself, watching a few children play tag. When the evening darkened, the children left for home, leaving you with your thoughts and the autumn air. You shivered lightly as the chill settled in.

“Cold?” Sam’s voice was somber. He came to a stop in front of you.

You pulled the thick knit sweater tighter around you and shook your head.

Sam didn’t need to take the steps to climb the parapet. He put his hands on the cold concrete and deftly jumped up to take a seat besides you. “Did I keep you waiting long?” 

“I don’t mind. I like it here.” 

Sam was wearing the same cologne as always. His white shirt was open at the collar and sleeves rolled till his elbows. “Had to make a detour to the court. I’m sorry.”

You turned to look at him. _“I_ should be the one saying sorry… I shouldn’t have ran out like that the other day. It was inconsiderate and cowardly. I’ve apologised to Max, and I have to apologise to you. I should’ve waited to listen to what you had to say. You saved my life and I didn’t even stick around long enough to-”

“Don’t complete that,” Sam warned, stopping you midway. He looked unsure and wary. The expression tugged at your heartstrings. “Don’t you thank me for doing what I had to. Just don’t.” He sighed. “I should’ve told you about Max sooner.”

You gazed into those stunning eyes- amber and sea green and midnight blue all at the same time and took his hand very slowly in yours, turning it over to feel the texture of his palm. Sam looked at your fingers as they traced the veins running along his forearm, surprised. You wanted to bring his hand to your lips and kiss it, but you refrained. Restraint was necessary.

“I pulled the records of Max’s case from the LA registry yesterday, spent the night reading them. I can’t believe what they did to him.” You’d thrown up more than once looking at the pictures of Max in the records- broken bones, lash marks, burns and bruises. The mere idea of seeing Max after knowing what he’d been through had kept you in your room all afternoon. You just couldn’t face him.

Sam’s eyes were still on your twined hands. “It was inhuman,” he spat. “I still have nightmares.”

“What happened to Kirk Simmons? Last I read he had been extradited to a prison facility in Texas.”

Sam’s nostrils flared. “They gave him fifty years for aiding the murders and other crimes. I hope he dies in there, that son of a bitch.”

You were thankful for last night’s shift and the fact that the library had been empty. It gave you all the time in the world to read the depositions, testimonies, courtroom transcripts back and front. Sam had been phenomenal. Only someone who was fighting for what was infinitely precious to him could be _that_ passionate. 

“Max was so messed up when they relinquished his custody,” Sam said, eyes on the horizon. “The first night, I was scared out of my mind when I went to check on him and he wasn’t in his bed. Found him sleeping in the cleaning closet. I sat next to him on the floor that whole night not knowing what to do.”

Sitting here, listening to him, it was impossible to comprehend how much work had gone into making Max who he was today- how much unconditional love. 

Sam looked down and it threw the scar against his eyebrow in sharp relief. You remembered wondering where it came from. With light fingers, you reached out to touch it. He jerked at the touch.

“What’s this?”

“Glass,” he said. “First time around, I lost the case. Max got dragged back to that asshole, who-” Sam took a deep breath- “hit him. Real bad. When I went to see him in the holding cell, Max punched me, broke my glasses. Can’t say I didn’t deserve it.”

“Sam-”

“No, Y/N,” he shook his head decisively. “I could live for an eternity and I still won’t forgive myself for it.”

You tightened your grip on his hand. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Max could have found a better dad.”

Sam blinked, his eyes studied you carefully. “You really mean that.”

“Of course I do.”

The two of you sat in silence for a while, before he spoke. “How’re you doing?”

You tugged the sweater tighter around you, grateful that Sam couldn’t see the bruises he had left on your chest and stomach while trying to pump that water out.

“I’m okay, still a little sore, but otherwise okay.”

He hesitated. “You should complain against the jerk.” You saw his jaw tighten and fists clench. It made you want to smile.

“I’ll see how to handle him.” Brad was an asshole but even if he deserved it, you didn’t want to ruin his career by lodging a formal complaint. Didn’t want that on your conscience.

“There’s a lot that we have to unpack, don’t we?” He said softly.

Very carefully, you put your other hand over your entwined ones. “I need time, Sam. To figure this out and come to terms with everything. Can you do that for me?”

Slowly, he nodded. “You already know how I feel about you and I’ve accepted the fact that it’s never going to change. But don’t let that affect your decision. Whatever you choose, I’ll understand.”

It was all you could do to not throw your arms around him and kiss him deeply. You loved Sam. Just like there would be no one else for him, there would be no one for you _but_ him. And it hurt that Sam couldn’t see that- he was still unsure of your feelings. 

But Sam was right- there was too much to unpack. You had to be absolutely sure that you were ready first, especially for Max’s sake. It would take time- and only Sam would be so kind as to give it to you even if it hurt him in the process.

You didn’t attempt to say thank him this time. Just squeezed his hand tighter.

“Max tells me you were going to threaten me if I kept you away?”

Sam was trying to lighten the topic for your sake. Why was he so good?

“That’s correct.”

“The concept of you threatening me was very pleasing to him.”

You giggled. “He’s such a sweet kid.”

To your surprise, Sam snorted. _“Sweet?_ Kid’s got one hell of a sassy mouth. You haven’t seen the other side. Dean’s very pleased about it. He says it’s karma doing it’s thing for all the times I was a shithead to him.”

You burst out laughing. “Max reminded me of you from the very beginning. I just didn’t know it then.” The kindness, the intelligence, all of it.

“Really?”

“Yeah. He idolises you. Not that I blame him.” You grinned up at Sam. “You know, the way he described you reminded me of Atticus.”

Sam placed his hand over his heart in mock surprise. “Did you just compare me to your biggest literary crush?”

“Oh, hush… don’t gloat!” You bumped your shoulder against his. 

“Too late.”

You sighed, the easy smile slipping away from your face. He was so good with distractions. “You think we’ll be able to figure this one out?

Sam gently removed his hand from your grasp to place it over your shoulder. His other hand came down to gather both yours in your lap. His thumb skated over your arm comfortingly. “We’ll work something out.”

You leaned in against his shoulder, believing his words. A part of your mind idly wondered how the scene would look to a passerby. Old friends comforting each other or lovers stealing a moment together? 

You wanted to stay here in his arms forever.

“Don’t you have to go home?” You asked, dispirited.

“Not yet. Max is at a friend’s house working on an art project for school. I pick him up at 8.” His breath felt hot against the side of your face. All you had to do was turn your face, his lips were right there…

 _No!_ You reprimanded yourself. 

“Do you want to go back yet?” His voice was very reluctant. Lucky Sam. He didn’t have to hide his feelings anymore.

“I do have a paper due tomorrow for Civil Procedure and I’m royally stuck.”

“Screw the paper, I’m sure the professor wouldn’t mind.”

You snickered. This conversation was so _bizarre._

“I’m really stuck, Sam. I don’t know how to frame the conclusion. I ditched that class to run off with your brother, remember?”

You saw him biting down his lip to keep the laughter from spilling. “Work out the theory. It’s the same case, right? Dawson vs. State of Missouri, 93’?” 

“Yeah, same one. Are you seriously helping me figure it out _now?”_

This time Sam laughed. “Hey, you were the one who spent our honeymoon pouring over my Law books! I’ve come to expect this sort of thing from you.”

Time had seemed unlimited back then. You had been sure you’d have Sam to yourself forever. That wasn’t the case now. These were stolen moments. Besides, the sky was clear tonight.

“Naw, lets just look at the stars.”

It was completely dark, and somehow, the stars were visible.

Sam’s voice was hushed and oh so deep when he spoke in the quiet. “Hey, Y/N… about the other night. I… well, I did some stuff and I said some things that’ve changed everything for me. I don’t know how to go back to _before,_ don’t know how to take it back. Not that I want to, you know? I just-” He was struggling to find the words. “-If I end up being annoyingly persistent, or slip up and say things that I’m not supposed to… don’t hold that against me, kay?”

How could you?

He chuckled nervously. “Can’t blame a guy for trying, right?”

There was something very heartwarming about watching him explain the flirting, justifying his innocent attempts to woe you- his wife. You saw through him in that moment, just how much of himself he’d been holding back- how much of the love. And now that his façade was slipping and cracking, _your_ Sam was visible behind it. The same guy who couldn’t keep his eyes off you when you vacuumed, who couldn’t bear to keep his hands away from your skin on the weekends. That Sam was never lost. He was still very much there, just carefully restrained.

Reaching out, you kissed his cheek. The four o'clock stubble stubble scratched your lips in a way that made your stomach tighten. You had to dig your nails in your palm to stop yourself from launching at him and kissing him full on the mouth. The darkness and the fact that you were completely alone did not help. The memory of his kiss, the taste of lips that night was already at the forefront of your mind.

“You, Sam, never have to try at all.”

He pulled your hand up and kissed the knuckles softly. It hurt in the most beautiful way, setting your skin on fire where his lips touched. 

No more words were said after that.

You snuggled just a bit closer and Sam leaned his head against yours, both of you looking for hope in the blue opal stretching endlessly above you.


	34. Chapter 34

The rest of the week was hard.

There were things you _wanted_ to do and then things that you _had_ to do. Unfortunately for you, the Venn diagram of those two things were two circles that did not touch.

Normally, you loved your job, you loved studying and your classes. But sitting through Sam’s class was becoming a new, different type of torture. The pretension was wearing you down. You could see it grating him, too. You rarely spoke up in his class now, trying not to draw attention, neither did he call upon you like he did with other students. 

The library was still your second home, though, thanks to the untimely desertion of the other odd shifts librarian, you were left to run double shifts. Molly was sorry about it, but she didn’t have a solution for you, not until she had a new hire. That meant you were stuck in the library all the time. The guys in the apartment were starting to miss you. Kevin came over one evening to inform you everything sucked when you weren’t around. His face had made you hug him.

As for you? Without the free evenings, you couldn’t go over to see Max. You missed him terribly and it would do no good to whine about that to Sam, since you were still unsure about how he would take your excessive attachment to his son. 

Not that you didn’t have the chance to talk to Sam. After Sam put Max to bed, each night he’d call. You would sit in the alcove of the library widow and talk to him for hours- about the day, the classes and everything under the sun. Sam told you about the cases he was working on, the judges he really disliked and the girl Chase was chasing. Sam thought he was named aptly. He was also your faithful informant about Max. Apparently the playground bullies were back at it with the mean words. You blurted out loud how you wanted to punch the kids and Sam piled on top of that. Cheerful conversations about shaking kids followed.

It felt so juvenile to talk with him over the phone, like when he worked in New York and you were stuck in Lawrence, but not quite. Now, it was exciting to imagine him blushing on the other end when you accidentally said something complementary. Or if a student decided to stay in the library late night, you had to giggle in hushed voices so they wouldn’t overhear your conversations. The thrill of it was exciting. Those few hours had become the highlight of your day.

So, when Madison asked you what you were smiling about in the last lecture on Friday, you had to make up a reason. You couldn’t very well tell her that the bruise Sam was sporting on his cheek was because Max outran him on the basketball court and Sam slipped and fell.

“Just thinking of something funny.”

“Wouldn’t have to do with the green eyed hottie from Monday, would it?” Madison wiggled her eyebrows.

“Who, Dean?” You burst out laughing. “Maddie! He’s married to my sister.”

She laughed with you, face apologetic. “Dang! He’s really hot. Is it bad that I’m sorry he is married?”

“Definitely not,” you giggled. The good old Winchester genes had caused many casualties.

On the dais below, Sam collected his things.

“Ooohh, Professor Winchester is heading out. I better catch him before he leaves. You wanna come? Talk about the assignment?”

“No, you go on.” Sam had given you a run down of the assignment last night. You wanted to pout that he was right. You _could_ have done better.

“Still awkward about the whole drowning thing, huh?”

You looked away, not wanting to remember the pool.

Madison wasn’t paying attention. “You were… I don’t know, delirious. You kept calling him by his name and…” Madison looked at you warily. She did not complete the sentence.

“Y/N saw the opportunity and took it,” said Rebecca from the next row. “I would sell my soul to be lifted like that.”

You slung your bag around your shoulders and made a move to get up. For all you cared, Rebecca could get hit by a truck. Not only were you furious at her for planning that prank with Brad, it made you feel murderous when she objectified Sam like that, reducing him to some greasy creep of a professor. It was insulting.

“Wait up now, sweetie!” She came up from behind. “Don’t act so prissy now. We all know you’re not as innocent as you make yourself out to be.”

“Excuse me?”

“You think I’m blind? To not see how you’re playing with all these men to get what you want? First, you have Brad panting after you, so you get the attention? Then you’re dancing with some random blue eyed man at the induction dance. The very next day you’re swaying in the arms of Chase Lincoln of all people. The moment you touch the pool water, somehow Sam Winchester is miraculously saving you… and two days later you’re crying like a damsel in distress in the arms of yet another man!” She was counting off her fingers. “And people call me _slutty!_ I’m going to find out what your secret is, Y/N. Because I know you have one! And when I do…”

“You know what, Rebecca?” You said as calmly as you could. “Why don’t you go screw yourself.”

With that you headed straight for the library. When Madison caught up with you, her face was red. “Can’t believe I was ever friends with that hag! Gave her piece of my mind.”

“Madison, you should catch professor Winchester before he leaves. I’ll be okay.”

She assessed your words against your expression, then nodded and left.

You wanted to be by yourself. 

Thankfully, cataloging was time-consuming and tedious. It took your mind off of Rebecca’s awful words. For the life of you, you couldn’t understand why she was so mean to you. 

“Excuse me, miss, can I borrow this book?” Enquired a sweet voice. 

You dropped the marker in your hand and looked up. Max was standing beyond the desk, a huge grin on his face. You gave a little yelp of your own and hurried from behind the counter to throw your arms around him, kissing him on his cheek. 

“Gosh, I’ve been dying to meet you,” you said, pulling back to look at him. 

He was wearing a plaid shirt over a small faded t-shirt and jeans. Such a mini-Sam. You couldn’t resist the urge to lean over and kiss his other cheek.

Max started blushing, looking down at his shoes.

“What’re you doing here?” You asked, leading him to one of the benches.

“Alex broke her arm last night. She couldn’t come over today. Dad’s got work. He asked me to hang out here.”

“Oh, no, is Alex okay?”

Max snickered. “Yeah. She was trying to sneak out for a party and fell out of the window.”

You pursed your lips trying not to laugh with him. “Poor girl.”

“Aunt Jody’s super-mad!” He added and you couldn’t help the giggle that burst through your lips.

“Max, is that you?” Molly asked, sticking her head from behind the shelves. “Darn kid! It’s been ages. Where did you run off to?”

“Mechanics camp!” He told her. “I know where an engine goes now. And how to hot-wire a car.”

“They taught you _that_ at the camp?” You asked, skeptic.

“No, uncle Dean did.”

This time you laughed in earnest.

“You know Max?” Molly frowned.

You nodded. “Remember my little friend I told you about?”

“The one you were holding a bake sale for?”

“Yep, he’s the one.”

Molly put her hand to her lips. “Well, no shit! Do you know who his father is?”

You and Max immediately looked at each other, confirming your secret with a tiniest of nods. 

“He’s Sam’s boy, this cute little nugget here.” Molly pulled his cheek. To Max’s credit, he didn’t rub his cheek afterwards.

Which reminded you. “You wait right here, Max. I’ll be back in a minute.” You quickly found the stash of cookies you were saving for tonight’s dinner and hurried back to him. Eating at the library wasn’t allowed, but Max was an exception to every rule. “Cookies for you. I know these are your favourite.”

Max’s entire face lit up. True to his nature, he offered you one before digging in. You watched as he took a few bites, sneaking looks to the book he was holding- Adventures of Sinbad. 

“I read one of those when I was kid. It had a monster bird that carried Sinbad away to its nest.”

“Oh, the Roc! That one’s my favorite!” Max clapped his hand and the cookies clattered to the floor.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, trying to pick up the bag.

You stopped him with a gentle nudge. “Let me.” After cleaning the cookie crumbs from the carpet, you unwound the scarf from around your neck and used it to clean the crumbs stuck to Max’s mouth and shirt, fussing over getting it all away.

When you made him stand up to clean the hem of his pants, you noticed Sam standing behind you, arms crossed over his chest. He had a peculiar expression on his face- tender but also guarded.

“You’re not supposed to eat the library, young man!” Sam tried for stern, but ended up sounding amused.

You straightened up. “I make the rules here. Max can do whatever he wants.”

Max gave Sam a smug look, before running to him. In a motion that must have been more of less a reflex, Sam reached out and hefted Max up in his arms. 

“Look, what I found!” Max showed him the book.

Sam made a face. “Sinbad _again?_ That sixth voyage was lame.”

“I wanna find out how it ends. There’s only one adventure left!”

“Alright, but this is the last of Arabian tales for the year. I get second hand sea-sickness just reading about it. I’m starting to miss Charlie and the chocolate factory.”

“You _hated_ Charlie and the chocolate factory!”

Sam smirked. “You’re this close to getting my point.”

Max turned the book over. “We’re out of authors,” he told you.

The words shook you out of your quiet and you smoothened your expression. The scene before you was making your throat close up. You had never seen them together before. Max’s entire body language changed- his shoulders relaxed and he became less polite… just a bit more demanding, the way a child should be. Sam on the other hand radiated contentment. His voice changed, becoming softer, loving when he spoke to Max. You were sure you had been staring at them hungrily as if you couldn’t get enough of the interaction.

“Any suggestions?” Sam asked, tone still mild.

“T-Tolkein,” you stuttered. “You should try _The Hobbit.”_

Sam rolled his eyes. “Elven songs. Wonderful.”

Molly came over to greet Sam and you excused yourself to go back to the desk and take a stock of the emotions coursing through you. At any point it could get too much and you didn’t want either of them to see that. 

On their way out, Max waved at you. “Bye, Y/N!”

“Bye, Max.” You blew him a kiss. “You turned my day around, bud!”

There were too many people in the vicinity, so when it came to Sam, you nodded. “Professor.”

He mirrored your gesture. “Ms. Y/L/N.” And with a look full of promise of later, he walked away. You waved at Max till he was out of sight.

“Such a lovely boy,” Molly sighed. “Horrendous business what happened to him.”

“Yeah.” You cut the topic short, still unable to think of Max’s past without feeling faint. Thinking about it was so hard for you, Max had lived through it. 

Molly was in no mood to change the subject.

“Sam’s an amazing guy to give up _the lawyer_ life and settle down here for that kid.”

You narrowed your eyes. “What do you mean?”

Molly threw out her hands, slightly embarrassed. “It’s Sam’s personal choice and all that, but he had a solid career in LA. After that Simmons affair blew up in the media, he could’ve stuck around and bagged A-list celebrities as clients. He moved out to this place for Max’s sake- so there was some normalcy and stability in his life. Then, again, Sam’s had his share of downs.”

Your back felt like ice, knowing what was coming.

“I’m not supposed to talk about it but it’s just you.” Molly leaned in closer. “Did you know his wife left him?”

She must have interpreted whatever your face showed as shock, because Molly continued. “Don’t know much about the whole thing. I heard bits and parts from the grape wine. Some girl he met in Kansas straight out of Yale. Took a plunge in a couple of months and this girl bolted not even a year into the marriage. Can you believe that? I mean, look at him… What the fuck was she looking for that he _didn’t_ have!”

You could taste the blood by biting into your lip too hard.

“Never heard of him dating anyone since. I think he’s still in love with her.” Molly whistled. “At least they have each other- Max and Sam. That kid spends a lot of time here. You’ll keep finding reasons to feed your little friend cookies.” Molly flashed you a grin. You couldn’t quite return it.

It was past twelve when your phone rang. You’d just locked the library behind you and had given up on all hopes of the call.

You hurried to pick it up.

“Hey,” Sam breathed. “Sorry it took me so long.”

“It’s alright,” you sighed in relief at the sound of his voice. The sinking feeling in your stomach since the talk with Molly began to dissipate. 

“It’s your fault really,” Sam said. “Max liked _The Hobbit_ too much and went to bed real late. How am I supposed to wake him in time for his class tomorrow?”

His concerns were so normal, comfortingly mundane. Sam made it sound so easy, when in fact, all this must have been so hard. One time you heard someone say a mean thing about Sam’s wife and it had you rankled. Sam must’ve lived through years of whispers, stories and ugly rumours. He must’ve had to defend his choice of staying committed so many times. Hadn’t the words shred his heart?

“Y/N? Everything okay?”

You cleared your throat. “Uh it’s just… it’s good to hear your voice.”

He was immediately on alert. “What happened?”

“Nothing. Weird day.”

“Where are you?”

You looked about your dark surroundings. “Crossing the playground, almost to my building.”

“Do you want to come over?” He asked, voice hopeful but unsure. “We can sit in the front lawn if you want.”

You made an impulse decision. “Yeah okay.”

Ten minutes later you were sitting on one of Max’s swings. Your tan sweater wasn’t helping much as you shivered in the chill, waiting for Sam to show up. Weird how you made it before him. He lived right there!

Noiselessly the front door opened and closed. Sam walked briskly towards you. He was dressed in dark grey sweatpants and a black full sleeve t-shirt. In his hand he carried an afghan, a thermos and two mugs.

“Here,” he handed you the afghan. It was the same one that was wrapped around you on the night of the pool party. The memory brought blood to your face.

“We don’t have adult juice around here today, but we do have hot chocolate.” Grinning impishly, he tilted the thermos in your direction. He sat on the ground in front of you, carefully filling up the two mugs with the rich, brown liquid while you wrapped yourself in the Afghan. 

Eagerly, you took a sip and moaned indecently.

“Good, isn’t it?” Sam chuckled. 

This was very close to what heaven would feel like. 

“So, what’s the deal, huh?” He asked after a few sips. 

You hesitated, not wanting to admit what the real problem was. It would be the case of a teapot crying to a boiler.

“You know you can tell me things, right?” His voice was soft, beguiling. 

“It’s something Molly said after you left.” You gave in, selfishly spilling it all. 

Sam listened to the whole story, then shook his head at you in exasperation and beckoned you with his hand. You blinked a couple of times, then gave up and went in willingly. 

_What the hell, right?_

Sam tucked his arms around your shoulder once you slid on the ground next to him.

“You and I, we know what the truth is,” he said. “How does it matter what anyone else says?”

“Is that what you told yourself all these years?” You asked in a small voice, unable to meet his eyes.

Sam sighed. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Y/N?”

“You didn’t answer me.”

His fingers curled around your shoulder over the afghan. “No, I didn’t have to tell myself anything. I knew I loved you. That was enough.”

“I don’t know if I can be as strong as you.”

“That’s because you’re so much stronger,” he said. “None of those people have lived your life, they don’t know what you’ve been through. I can bet my ass, they wouldn’t have made it out of half of it in one piece. It’s easy to judge.”

“That’s not my problem,” you argued. “I don’t care what they think about me. But I can’t stand how it makes you look!”

Sam surprised you by chuckling lightly. “You’re cute when you’re indignant. Especially on my behalf.”

“Quit making this into a joke, Sam.”

“I seriously don’t know what else to do.” He put a finger under your chin, tilting your face up. “Look at me. I’m the happiest I’ve been in years! Do you really think I give a rats ass about what anyone’s got to say about me? My personal life has never been anyone’s concern except mine and yours. The only other person who has any say in this is Max. And that kid doesn’t shut up about you.”

Sam’s eyes were scorching, melting against the night sky.

“Molly’s wonderful, and I know she has a soft spot for me. But by the end of the day, it’s just gossip. There’s no substance to it. So will you please drop it?”

At long last you nodded. 

“That’s like my Y/N.”

A rustle from the other side of Sam’s fence made you stiffen. The bushes behind the planks began to shake.

“What’s that?”

Sam shrugged. “Probably Alex sneaking out.”

You frowned at him. “Didn’t she break her arm doing exactly that?”

He snorted. “When has _that_ stopped teenagers? It does make life a bit difficult. Jody’s grounded her. She can’t babysit Max for a while and I got work tomorrow.”

You saw Alex creeping on the sidewalk in front of the lawn. She saw the two of you huddled and froze like a deer caught in the headlight. Sam winked and waved a salute at her. After a minute she unfroze, returned the gesture and went off on her way. 

“Why don’t you drop him off at the library in the morning? I’ll keep an eye on him. I’m covering the first shift.” You worked to not sound too excited.

“Yeah, that still doesn’t fix the afternoon. I won’t be back before four.”

“Easy. I’ll wait with him here.”

Sam looked at you, hazel eyes wondrous. “You’d do that?”

“Sure. I owe him a pie anyway.”

“You’re a lifesaver!” He exhaled. “Seriously, I could kiss you right now!”

All you had to do was look up. Sam was right there.

Another crash sounded over the fence, louder than the first, followed by a muted ‘ow.’ You saw lights flare up in what must be the living room. From somewhere inside you heard Jody curse. “Jesus fucking Christ! Claire, what’re you doing on the ground.”

“Why do you _always_ have to catch _me!”_ Claire whined in the darkness. “Alex just left!”

“What. The. Fuck!” Jody yelled. “Get in the fucking car! We’re going to find your sister.”

That did it for you as you buried your face in Sam’s chest, smothering the giggles. His arms wrapped tightly around you. Sam himself was shaking with silent laughter over you.

Yeah, this was pretty close to heaven.


	35. Chapter 35

_“… Of course there is a mark,” said Gandalf. “I put it there myself. For very good reasons. You asked me to find the fourteenth man for your expedition, and I chose Mr. Baggins. Just let anyone say I chose the wrong man or the wrong house, and you can stop at thirteen and have all the bad luck you like, or go back to digging coal.”_

A knock on the table made you put down the book from which you were reading out loud. 

The person who’d knocked merely placed a bunch of newspapers on the desk and left. Beyond the desk, other people were starting to move around. You needed them to sign off on the books they had borrowed.

Sighing, you closed the book and looked at the boy besides you. “Shall we continue when we get home? There’s a few things I need to take care of before we can leave.” 

“Can I tag along?” Max asked. 

“Sure thing.”

You took the register with you, getting the students to sign off against their names. You just had to clear out your locker in the Librarian’s room and then you’d be done for the day. 

Sam had dropped off Max at around nine in the morning, without so much as a wave. His face was flushed, which led you to believe he might’ve been thinking about the same thing you were- how it felt to be snuggled so close the night before. 

Max had carried his book with him and since the crowd was thin, you’d offered to read it out loud for him. The hours had vanished since once you immersed yourself in the story. Max rarely interrupted, except to ask for meanings of words he did not understand. Quietly, he followed your finger over the page with his eyes, lips moving soundlessly.

When you were all done, you slung your satchel across your chest and offered your hand to Max. “Shall we?”

With a shy smile he took it. 

At the Library’s threshold you ran into Madison.

“You’re leaving?” She asked, eyes sliding down to Max. “Oh, you have company.”

A huge grin spread across your face. “Maddie, this is my friend Max!”

“Oh, wow! His dad’s finally letting you meet him?”

Max tightened his grip on your hand. You didn’t know for sure what Max knew of your relationship with Sam, but he knew that other people weren’t supposed to know about it. 

You were very careful as you answered. “Yeah, it was a misunderstanding. We figured it out.”

“Hi, Max,” said Madison, offering her hand. “I’ve heard so much about you. It’s nice to meet you.”

Max looked at you and when you nodded reassuringly, he shook Madison’s hand tentatively.

“You’re right, he _is_ adorable.” She said, straightening up. “You’ll be coming back?”

You shook your head apologetically. “No, I’m sorry. Max’s babysitter had an unfortunate accident. I’ve volunteered to look after him.”

Madison’s lips pulled down. She said her goodbyes and strode to her favourite corner of the library. 

When you were just outside of the campus, Max finally spoke, “Gandalf’s my favourite. He’s the smartest of them all.”

“You don’t like Bilbo?”

Max’s eyebrow scrunched up. “I like him, but I think he’s going to mess up bigtime.”

You bit your lip at the surety in his voice. The kid was very perceptive. 

“He messes up, doesn’t he?” Max groaned.

“Hey, I didn’t say that!”

“You have that look on your face.”

“What look?”

Max made a face that would resemble yours and you burst out laughing. “I’m not making that face.”

“Sure are.”

You smirked down at him. “Do you really want me to tell you? Or do you want to find out for yourself?”

Max pouted. “I wanna find out for myself.”

“That’s what I thought.”

You’d reached Max’s house by then. Punching the code that Sam had texted, you pushed the door open feeling a bit apprehensive. Sure you’d been in here before, but never actually realised it this way. All you had really seen was the insides of Sam’s bedroom. 

Before you could reflect too much, Max dragged you by your hand, through the living room, up the stairs and into his bedroom- the first door on the landing, across the hall from what you knew to be Sam’s room.

Max’s room stood in a stark contrast. While Sam’s room had been simple and beige, Max’s was a melody of colours, much larger than Sam’s and far less curated. The walls were a fresh blue. The east side held a climb up wardrobe and drawers all designed into the wall. Next to it was a small, white bed, littered with soft toys and books. The west side was entirely made up of a floor to ceiling window, but instead of being flushed with the wall, it was pushed out to create a lovely alcove. Sunlight filtered through the stain-glassed tops in multi-coloured patterns. You imagined Max sitting on the cushions there and reading to himself. 

The other corner was occupied by a makeshift tent, propped against the column. You could see a truck peeping out of it. 

“Uncle Dean got me the truck,” Max explained. “Aunt Jo put up the tent.”

You walked over to touch the fabric of the tent, remembering the week in one particular summer that you’d been forced to stay at aunt El’s. You were around eight and it was the first time you had actually spent more than a day with Jo. Shy as you were, the whole ordeal had been awkward and at first, plain punishing to be around someone you barely knew. Not knowing where to hide, you had fallen asleep in the tent in Jo’s room and next morning found her sleeping next to you.

“Do you like your aunt Jo?” You asked in a small voice.

“I LOVE her!” Max enthused. “She’s the best and makes the best burgers. She lets me hang out in the diner with her.”

“She used to let me hang out as well! I miss her so much,” you whispered.

“Me, too.” Max plopped down on her bed, you took a seat next to him. “Dad doesn’t go there. He only came with me one time for the wedding but never went to the house.”

You felt a stab in your gut at the realisation- the reason was you. Sam was dissociating. 

Something soft touched your fingers and you looked down. A soft grey blanket was folded over Max’s bed. You took it in your hand, running your fingers through the soft material. 

“It’s my favourite blanket,” Max said, helpfully. “I can’t fall asleep without it.”

Your throat was too tight to be able to speak. 

Max wouldn’t let your attention be diverted for more than a minute, dragging you to the study and then the huge backyard facing balcony. The house wasn’t big. It had three bedrooms- Max’s, Sam’s and one spare, next to the study which doubled up as Sam’s office. Downstairs was just the living room, kitchen and a store room, or so Max told you. In fact, the huge double height duplex in New York was twice as big and fancier. 

This little house looked like it was lived in and loved, with little chips in the cornices and marks along the doorframe for each inch that Max had grown. The hallway had a series of pictures- Max in a NBA jersey with his ball balanced against his hip, Sam and Max smiling at the edge of a river, holding a salmon, Max in _Baby_ with Dean laughing from the driver’s seat. The last one in the line was from the wedding. Dean with his two Bestmen- Sam and Max on his arm and Jo… with no bridesmaid next to her.

You expected the punches to stop after a point, but they just kept coming. 

“And this-” said Max, leading to the start, “-is Sam’s room. C’mon in.”

You had already been here, but didn’t know how to explain that to Max, so you went in anyway. In the light of the day, the room looked different- bigger somehow. Everything was a light colour scheme- beige walls, white sheets, ocher duvet. The wall over the bed held a painting of a forest- bright and lively. On the nightstand was the picture you had seen- Sam and Max laughing on the beanbag.

“You call him Sam?” You asked lightly.

Max shrugged. “Sometimes. But only at home or when it’s just us. He doesn’t mind.” Course he didn’t. Max had probably started off with calling him Sam before he got adopted. Then again, given his favourite book, no wonder he called his dad by the name.

“I wanna show you something,” Max said, leading you to the bed. Just when you thought he was going to give you the framed photo, he opened the first drawer of the nightstand and pulled out another frame. Max handed it to you.

It was your picture- a candid, in Sam’s old bedroom in Lawrence.

From the photo you looked at Max, the realisation dawning. “You knew who I was when you ran into me at the playground.”

It all made sense- why Max trusted you from the get go. Even though he showed distrust towards strangers, he had let you carry him around. Because you were never a stranger to him. He’d always known.

Max nodded solemnly, unsure of your reaction.

“What did Sam tell you about me?” 

“That you’re his wife and that you left him.”

You asked the next question reluctantly. “Did he tell you why?”

Max’s voice was hushed. “He said you lost your little baby.”

The floor started slipping from under you, the air around you coagulated and it became harder to breathe.

Small hands caught hold of yours. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said, upset that he’d upset you.

Reaching out you pulled him into a hug. “Don’t say sorry, kiddo. It was a long time ago.” You needed to keep reminding yourself that. 

“Why don’t you show me the rest of the house?”

Happy that you were okay, Max got right back to his tour. Downstairs, he showed you around the kitchen. It was an open design with a breakfast counter and pull out table. A jar still held the last of your cookies on the counter. True to your expectations, the fridge was full of green leafy vegetables.

The living room had a comfortable pullover sofa with a matching set of cushioned chairs. The side wall had a recessed bookshelf and next to it on the podium stood a beautiful piano- gleaming black. It made your heart melt. Even though you hadn’t been part of Sam’s life for so long, subtly, you were present in every part of the house. In the décor, the bookshelves, the colors of the house. This was exactly how you had described your home to Sam.

You touched the polished lid of the piano, hand shaking slightly. 

“I can play something for you later when it’s tuned,” Max offered.

Surprised, you gave him a smile. “You learnt it from your dad, huh?”

Max scoffed. “I’m the only one. Sam can’t play. He doesn’t even touch it.”

Your stomach dropped to the floor. He didn’t… play anymore?

Music was something you had associated with Sam since the very beginning. Even in the earliest of days when you were dating, you would often catch him humming to classical notes though he couldn’t sing to save his life. All the hours he spent playing for you, his long fingers gliding over the keys like they were under his command. Music was a part of Sam. He’d learnt it for his mother. And now because of you, he hadn’t just wrecked her piano, he’d completely given up on music itself.

“He listens to me practice each night before bed, though,” Max was saying. “Maybe he’s picked a note or two.” 

You couldn’t quite smile at his sass. 

The aroma of the baking pie didn’t bring the usual comfort as you sat on the kitchen bar counter, feet crossed under you, watching Max sleep on the sofa. Maybe he was used to napping in the afternoon, something you didn’t know. Six and a half years was a very long time to attempt to fill in the blanks. You barely knew anything about Max’s life or how Sam had taken this broken kid and put him back together… how Sam had put himself back together.

You wanted more than anything to be a part of this family, but what if you were too broken for them? No one had put _you_ back together. You yourself hadn’t bothered. It wouldn’t be fair to put that responsibility on Sam as well. There was a limit to how much he could shoulder. He’d been a faithful husband to an absent wife for so long, but what if you weren’t worth it? What if you could never be the wife he deserved?

And if that were the case, you might still be able to live with it. But you knew that it would destroy you if you couldn’t be a good mom to Max. Sam might forgive you every offense against him, but what about Max? Hell, even you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself if you were anything less than ideal for this sweet, darling boy. 

_You are a curse, you are a jinx, step out of their lives before you wreck it, just like everything else._

If there was a chance that you were truly cursed, it would be a sin beyond redemption to let even a shadow of it touch Max.

“Y/N, sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Looking up, you were startled to see Sam standing next you, eyes concerned.

You shook your head in confusion.

Sam put his hand against your jaw. “Then why are you crying?”

You touched your fingers to your cheeks and sure enough they came back wet.

“It’s just… it’s everything,” you said through a thick throat. “I don’t know what to think, I don’t understand what I’m feeling. It’s overwhelming.”

Gently, he wiped your tears with the back of his fingers. “Give yourself time, Y/N. You can’t force yourself to accept everything at once. You’re only human.”

Sam’s immense patience and understanding was making your insides ache more. You slid down from the counter. “There’s fresh cookies in the jar- double chocolate chip for Max and butter for you. Don’t pull out the pie immediately from the oven, let it sit for a while, alright? You always burn your hand.”

“You’re leaving already?” Sam sounded slightly crestfallen. “At least wait till Max wakes up.”

“I’ve got a couple hypos to take care of.”

“Work from here. I won’t disturb you.”

You worked your face into a smile. “I think I’ll head home and catch a nap of my own first.”

Walking up to where Max was sleeping, you ran a hand lightly through his hair. “Bye, Max,” you whispered softly.

He was cocooned in his blanket, looking peaceful.

“Y/N, the blanket…” Sam started, apprehensive but you held up a hand.

“Don’t say anything. I understand.” It belonged to Max more than it had ever belonged to you. 

Sam walked you to the door. 

“A few of us are going out to a picnic tomorrow. We- I mean Max and I would really like it if you could come,” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck.

“A few?”

He blinked. “Just Jody and the girls. Chase is getting his new girlfriend and Max and me. You can bring whoever you want,” he added.

There were a lot of people and Jody Mills. She was still your professor. You had guessed a long time ago that Sam must have confided in her. They were old friends after all. You weren’t sure if it was a good idea to intrude anymore in their lives than you already were. But if you didn’t, would you ever really get to know them? You hesitated, torn.

“It’s outside the Stanford limits, and don’t worry about Jody. She… well, she’s been very supportive. She won’t say a word.”

You raised an eyebrow sardonically. “Jody outing us will hurt your case more than mine.”

“Yeah, but I don’t care. I don’t understand why you have to care either, it’s not like you’re screwing the professor for extra marks.”

Blood rose to your face in the comment. Sam gave you a crooked smile, murmuring something too low for you to hear.

Just like that you wanted to break out dancing. “I’ll think about it and let you know by evening, okay?”

“Sure. Wish I could walk you home.” 

You put your hand over his shoulder to let him know it was alright.

Sam took a step forward and this time did not hesitate as he kissed the side of your head. “Soon.”

*****

Meg was dozing on the sofa when you got back home. You tiptoed to your room so as to not wake her up. Once inside, you walked to your wardrobe and dove right into the bottom left corner. It held a box, full of things from the bag you had picked up while leaving the hospital in Lawrence. The only thing you had ever removed from it was the wallet for your identity proof, which let you retrieve copies of your documents eventually and your _To kill a mockingbird_ copy. The box had otherwise remained untouched, moving from one house to another over the years. You hadn’t dared to open it and unleash all the memories.

Today, you decidedly opened it. For something that had haunted you so long, the box was plain and unsuspecting, so were most of the contents inside it- Two pairs of clothes, a toilet bag with outdated things, two novels, a diary and a small pouch. With a pounding heart you reached for the roughly sewn pouch and emptied the contents on your palm. Two rings glinted up at you. One had a diamond that winked in the light and the other was a thin, plain gold band. You stared at the rings for far too long, reluctant to put them back in now that you were finally holding them.

“Pretty.” Meg came to sit down besides you and you closed your palms around them, dropping them back in the pouch.

“I barely get to see you anymore,” Meg said, stretching out her legs before her. She oddly reminded you of a cat again. “Where have you been?”

A talk with Meg was long overdue. You had been dropping bombs after bombs about the past and not giving her a chance to react to them. “The library shifts are crazy and I’ve been trying to sort some stuff with Sam,” you said, spilling out the truth. “I know you don’t like him, but this bit is inescapable.”

To your surprise, Meg didn’t immediately launch into a tirade against Sam. She was looking down at her hands.

“I don’t think that about him. He’s a good man, the rare kind.”

You must’ve been goggling at her, because Meg’s cheeks reddened. “I changed my mind, okay?” She looked down and continued. “He’s a great guy. And you… you’re still in love with him. I think you _should_ give the marriage a second chance.”

As surprised as you were, the words still stumbled out, “What about Max?”

“What about him?” Meg’s voice was uncharacteristically gentle. “You dote on him. You know I thought it was weird at first… how instantly the two of you connected? Maybe it was meant to be.”

“What if… what if I am a bad-” The word burned on its way out. “mother? Hasn’t he suffered enough?”

Your friend shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re making me say this, but I don’t think you can ever be bad at loving. You’re literally the most loving person I know. You don’t say it out loud much but that’s the only prerequisite for being a good mother- the ability to love unconditionally. I had a crap mother growing up, so take it from me, you are the opposite of that. As long as you love Max, you’ll learn the rest slowly- his habits, his needs, all of it.”

Meg was comforting and kind, soothing the cacophony of doubts in your head one word at a time. You grabbed at the chance of reassurances and aired the next doubt.

“Sam’s so good! You haven’t seen them together, Meg… it’s insane how tuned he is to Max, understanding every little wink, every little change in expression. Sam knows Max inside out… like… like-”

“Max is his own son,” Meg finished, saving you from saying it out loud. It was criminal to not call Max Sam’s real son. Sam had done more for him than anyone in this world. Meg simply understood what you meant.

“You’re not seeing this objectively, Y/N,” Meg reasoned calmly. “You’re letting your fear hold you back from seeing the larger picture the way I see it. This is a self fulfilling prophecy. The more you doubt you’ll be bad at this, the worse you’ll be. I’m the last person to say this, but you’re going to have to trust yourself, trust Sam, and do this blind. You think Sam would even consider getting back together, if he thought you wouldn’t make a good mom? Even if he loves you like a moth to a flame, he would never play with Max like that.”

She took a deep breath. “You’re also forgetting that he’s had Max only for what? Two and a half years now? I’m sure he struggled with being a dad and figured that one out by himself. At least, you’ll have him to help you.”

You leaned sideways and put your head against her shoulder, suddenly tired and so grateful that she was upholding the faith in you when you couldn’t.

“This love stuff is really complicated, isn’t it?”

You snorted. “What’s got you so perplexed? Cas is the best. He’s as unproblematic and awesome as they get.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it?”

You straightened yourself and regarded her. “What do you mean?”

Meg’s lips pulled at the corner. “He’s just so innocent sometimes, he blurts out nice things and actually means them!” Her eyes were wide in disbelief, as if the concept was incomprehensible.

You laughed. “Yes, Meg. That’s because he is a nice person. Nice people exist.” narrowing your eyes, you added. “I am curious, now, what did he say?”

“He said ‘I love you.’” She was dazed. “And he asked me to move in with him.”

“Meg, that’s wonderful!” You clapped your hands in glee, so proud of Cas. He had taken your encouragement to heart after all. _Atta boy!_

Meg looked at you like you had lost it. “Why will I move in with him?”

“Ummm… cause you love him? That’s a good enough reason and you gotta do it blind sometimes. You just preached that!”

She threw you a withering look. 

“I think you should move in with him,” you suggested sagely. “You both run such crazy schedules, especially Cas. Don’t you think you should grab as much time together as you can?”

“Mmm.” Meg was in clearly two minds. “I want to live with him, I really do, but what about us? I can’t leave you!”

That had you clutching your stomach. “Weren’t you just convincing me to give my marriage a shot? Did you intend on me being married to Sam from _here?”_

Meg laughed with you, till you sobered up and said, “I’ll be right across the hall, Meg. Not even five steps away. I actually think Cas’s living room is closer to my room than your bedroom. This will still be your home as long as I live here.”

She gave you a real smile- wide and happy.

“Also, you should tell everyone. Now that you’ll be moving out.”

“Oh, they know,” Meg said. “Kevin saw me sneaking out of Cas’s place once and well, they got to sleuthing. They also know about you.”

“You told them?” 

She shook her head. “Didn’t have to. Jack’s girlfriend told him, and he wanted to come over and give you a hug. Pam said it’s better if he gave you time instead. They’ve all known for days now.”

“No one’s behaved any differently with me…” you whispered, almost to yourself.

Meg huffed exasperatedly. “That’s because they care about you! You matter to them, not your past. Pam’s kinda red-faced that she tried to flirt with your husband that one time and Kev thinks he’s hot.”

You were stunned. Just yesterday the boys were over, stealing from your fridge, surfing crap channels on the TV and hogging your sofa, neither one even mentioned. They didn’t judge you for what you’d done. Gratitude, warm and sudden flooded through you. 

Staring at the pouch in your hand, you thought about everything Max had shown you. Sam’s house had niches for where you should’ve been. He hadn’t plugged in the holes left by your absence, instead he had let them be, not forgotten but cared for, in the hopes that you’d come back in his life to reclaim them. Sam could’ve easily dismissed you from the narrative, never told Max about you. He’d chosen to tell him the truth, hard facts, letting Max decide for himself what he wanted to make of you. And Max? He had still chosen you- opened his heart and let you in. 

You thought of Dean, who had seen his brother’s anger and suffering and still never held in against you. Jo, who was so loyal, she didn’t want a child of her own, didn’t want Sam to ever seek happiness with someone else.

Then there were your friends who accepted you unconditionally. If all of this happiness and forgiveness was coming your way, maybe there was some deeper meaning to it. Could you let this in and learn to forgive yourself? Learn to be happy again?

You owed it to all these people and yourself to try. 

“C’mon, let’s go outside and grab a beer,” you said, putting the pouch and the box away. 

She raised an eyebrow. “You wanna risk that?”

“Sure, one beer won’t hurt.” Neither would going out with Sam and Max on the picnic tomorrow. Baby steps, for your sake and theirs. “Besides, I’ve got a long day tomorrow.”


	36. Chapter 36

“I’ve decided I don’t want to do this anymore. I’m going home.”

“Jack!” You grabbed him by his elbow just as he turned. “You can’t abandon me!”

He looked a bit terrified. “I can’t do this, Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure you can. Jody is awesome and you’re so cute. I _know_ she will like you.”

Jack did not look convinced. A tiny part of you was nervous with him. He was about to meet his girlfriend’s mom for the first time. After calling Sam to tell him that you were up for the picnic, the wild optimism in his voice had you wearing out the carpet of your living room, freaking out about messing it up- for Sam and for Max. As a last resort, you had knocked on your neighbour’s door and convinced Jack to accompany you. As it turned out, Claire had been after him for a while to meet her family, and Jack being Jack was worrying the hell out of it. 

Now, you stood in front of the gate of your building, waiting for Sam to come pick you up, and not letting each other chicken out of this situation. That’s what friends did. 

“It’s not just Jody,” Jack admitted. “It’s also your husband.”

Your heart still lurched at the word. “Sam? What about him?”

Jack groaned, rolling his head. “I don’t know. You’re our Y/N… and then suddenly we find out you’re married. I really want to like him, but he’ll take you away from us.”

You were touched by his words, and the innocence in them. “No one can take me away. In fact, this is just my grand scheme to make sure that you’re stuck with me for life now. I’ve been slowly getting you hooked to the cookies. Soon there will come a day when you’ll realise you can’t live without them. And then you just can’t get rid of me. It’ll be too late.”

Jack smiled at you and slung his arm around your soldier. “It’s not the cookies we’re getting addicted to, it’s you.”

A car made the swift turn and came to a stop next to the gate, right in front of you- Sam’s sleek, black Mercedes. 

Jack let out a low whistle. “I take it all back. You get back together with this guy and adopt me. Max is so much nicer than Kevin anyway. I’ll share a room with him. I’ll do the dishes everyday.”

You were crying because of laughter by the time Sam opened his door and stepped out. 

“You alright?” He asked, face startled but amused.

Nodding and gasping for breath, you made the hasty introductions. Jack gave his patented customary hand raise of a greeting with palm facing forward. Sam was going for a handshake but seeing Jack’s wave, he did the same with a smile.

From the backseat, Max called out your name. Without caring about the rest, you opened the door and got in besides him, ruffling his hair.

“Hey, Y/N, aren’t you riding shotgun?” Jack asked, voice restrained to appear casual. 

“Nah, you got it. I’m going to hangout in the back with Max.”

Jack might be looking daggers at you for throwing him under the bus, but you knew he’d live. Sam was excellent company. In the next fifteen minutes of the ride, you were proven right, because Jack was busy discussing the mysterious circumstances under which Edgar Allan Poe died, and how _The murders in Rue Morgue_ was actually his best work. Sam was exceptionally well read and Jack was in his element with literature discussions. 

You turned to Max, showing him your basket. “Look, what I got for you- your favourite cookies and a pie!”

He let out a squeal of delight and you snuck a cookie out for him. 

The car was spotless, rich upholstery gleaming, but you knew Sam couldn’t care less if Max got crumbs on the seats. Right on track, Max dug into the cookie, not bothering about the mess. Secretly, it pleased you that you were beginning to decode their relationship.

“I didn’t know what the others would like, so I baked muffins and some savoury croissants. You think that’s okay?”

“Stop gnawing over it, Y/N,” Sam said. “Everyone’s gonna love it.”

You didn’t think he was even paying any attention to you. Course you were wrong. His eyes were melting in the rearview mirror as he smiled at you.

“Y/N woke up at 4:30 in the morning to get everything set,” Jack added.

You bent forward to look at him. “How do you _know_ that?”

“I could hear your beater whirring. Thin walls.”

“That woke you up? I’m so sorry, Jack!”

Jack snorted. “Was she always like this?”

“Always,” said Sam, with all the warmth. You could feel the heat in your chest.

For the rest of the ride, you happily listened to Max chatter about the badminton racquet in the trunk and Claire’s home bowling set. He was such a joy to listen to when he was just being a kid and not careful. You listened very attentively, picking out the things that were only in the subtext of his words. Max loved these people- Jody, her girls and even Chase. He knew their habits and their natures like a family. Sam must have relied on them a lot and often. 

You were so lost in Max’s words, that the car was already silently cruising along the San Francisco bay. The water stretched by one side of the road. Instinctively, you tightened the grip on Max’s hand. 

Why hadn’t you thought to ask where the picnic was!

As it turned out, the place they had chosen was very serene… The little landscape was a small distance walk from the highway, secluded enough that it wasn’t frequented, but beautiful nonetheless. Tall, full trees dominated the landscape. The rich fall colours, oddly made the shade underneath brighter somehow, inviting. The shadows of the trees bleeded into an open, grassy area and ultimately into the sandy, pebbly waterline of the bay. 

You wrinkled your nose at the sight of nestled ducks. Sam smirked at you. Was he remembering the same afternoon? When you had tried to feed the ducks Sam and Dean’s epic failure of muffins?

Two girls were already laying out an assortment of food on the blanket. The blonde turned at the sound of Max’s hoots and her face brightened at the site of Jack. It was adorable. Alex still had her hand in a cast and Jody was hauling a cane chair from behind. All of them looked in a jovial mood. Maybe the whole sneaking out at night debacle was behind them. 

Alex greeted you first when you reached them. “It’s great to see you again, Mrs. Winchester.”

You felt rather than saw Sam’s eyes flash towards you. Smiling, you sat down next to her. “Y/N is just fine, Alex. You don’t have to change names all of a sudden.” 

Both she and Claire were a little wide eyed. Your situation had clearly been a topic of discussion with them. This girl they randomly knew as Max’s friend or Jack’s neighbor was now suddenly Sam’s wife. It must’ve been bizarre. After sharing a few pleasantries with Jody, you pulled out your own basket.

You had to admit, the reactions were very mollifying as they dug into the muffins, pies and croissants, moaning with closed eyes. Sam gave you a sideways smirk at their reaction.

“That’s it,” Jody declared. “You’re passing the rest of the semester for legal writing without handing in a single assignment. The muffins alone… mmm.”

“Save me some,” Sam complained. It was mostly aimed at Jody.

She scowled at him. “You stop making those eyes at me, Winchester. I’m not giving up my share.” When you giggled she turned towards you. “Did he always do that?”

“Puppy dog eyes of doom? Yeah… always.”

“You make that shit work for you in the court, don’t you? That’s how you win all of them cases,” she grumbled.

“How _rude!”_

You turned at the offended sound. Chase stood behind you with arms crossed over his chest. 

“You guys started eating without me?” He huffed, sitting down on your other side and turned to Max. “Your dad, I can expect that from. Since when did you turn into such an Iago?”

“I saved you the cookies,” Max said promptly, pulling the bag from behind him. There was a small furor which was mostly the girls complaining about how they didn’t know there were cookies. It ended with Chase clutching the bag to his chest.

“Flee away, children,” he said. “I need the cookies to mend my broken heart.”

“What happened to your girlfriend? Weren’t you bringing her with you?” Sam asked.

Chase threw him a very impressive shade. “She dumped me, Samuel.”

“Why?”

“She couldn’t bear that I was prettier than her.”

You suspected Chase was just playing it out for the cookies. He did not look heartbroken in the least. 

Once the food stash was considerably depleted, the girls, Jack and Max, picked up the racquets and divided their teams for Badminton. When Max insisted that you join them, Sam vehemently supported your argument of terrible hand-eye coordination. He knew and much like yourself, did not want to put other people in the way of the harm that you might inflict. In the end, only the group of four ended up on the blankets. Sam, Jody, you and Chase who was almost lying on his side, head resting on his hand, propped up on an elbow. He looked younger in a t-shirt and jeans. 

“I still can’t believe you can cook all of this by yourself! No wonder Sam didn’t want to junk the marriage.”

“Chase!” Sam admonished, mortified, but you enjoyed Chase’s unapologetic behaviour, being all too tired of people stepping on eggshells around you- especially Sam.

“No, it’s alright,” you said, grinning at Chase, who returned your grin with a wink.

“You don’t happen to have a sister, do you?” He enquired.

“Well, actually…”

“Someone other than Jo,” he added quickly. “God knows I won’t survive a minute if I went toe to toe with Dean Winchester. One Winchester is enough to keep me in line.”

Sam threw Chase his classic bitchface then went back to his conversation with Jody. Eyeing his absorption, Chase tilted his head towards the side, “Care to join me for a walk, Y/N?”

You chanced a look at Sam, who was busy discussing a faculty matter and nodded. As quietly as you could, the two of you got up and moved away. 

“So, did you end up applying? To Acton Gris, I mean?” He asked, hooking his thumbs in the pockets of his pants.

“I did, the very evening. I’m trying not to be too hopeful.”

His green eyes regarded you. “Now, whyever would you do that?”

“Because I’m a realist and I know what type of competition I’m up against.”

Chase chuckled. “You’re too idealistic, Y/N. Even more than Mr. Mc-dreamy over there. Never thought I’d see him topped in that category. I’m still hopeful. Looks like I’m the only one.”

“Why do you care?” You asked. “What does it matter to you if I end up in Acton Gris or not?”

“It doesn’t. I think it would be great for your career and it’s my duty being from the same alma mater to further your cause.”

You raised an eyebrow in disbelief. “And this has nothing to do with Sam.”

Chase was quiet for a long time, watching his steps as you strolled along the waterline, a safe distance away from it. You had given up on expecting an answer and were just beginning to wonder what would be a good time to turn around and head back when he finally spoke, “I’ll admit I haven’t been your biggest fan, Y/N. Sam never said a word against you… and that is exactly what pissed me off.” 

This was in line with what you had pretty much already assumed so it didn’t come as a surprise.

“I’m telling you this because I know you ain’t a snowflake,” said Chase. “You don’t have the liberty to be a snowflake after everything you’ve been through. I also know you don’t care about my opinion of you.”

“That still doesn’t answer my question,” you pointed out.

He sighed. “I suggested that you try at Acton Gris not for Sam’s sake but mine. That part I told you about- how Sam’s too high up to be involved with paralegals- is one hundred percent true. But I wanted to get to know you for myself.”

“To see if I was any good for Sam?”

Chase snorted. “This whole deal makes me sound like Sam’s possessive mistress but I _am_ protective of him… and of his boy over there. I’ve been around for the start of that story, and they’ve been hurt enough. I am cad for saying this but I just didn’t trust you enough, and Sam being Sam was pining after you from day one… it’s quite tiresome to watch.”

“And now what? You suddenly approve of me? I passed some invisible test?”

“You guys are already married, who the heck am I to set a test for you? For the majority part I was telling the truth, you know. You’d flourish at Acton Gris. It would make you happy and Sam would be over the moon. But I still want to get to know you better.” He paused. “I haven’t had the best of family life growing up. More money than I could count, but my mother ditched me and my dad before I could spell out her name. I’ve seen him miserable for all his life… and well, it gave me mommy issues to last a lifetime.” Chase winked. “So all the meddling is clearly not me projecting my childhood abandonment issues on you. _Clearly!”_

Chase’s blunt honesty surprised you. He owed you nothing at all. Yet here he was answering all your questions. While he was at it, you decided to ask one more.

“Now you think I won’t break Sam’s heart?”

He looked at you and shook his head lightly. “I don’t know that. What I do know is that you won’t be able to break his heart without breaking your own first. I’ve only ever wanted him to be happy. Tried setting him up with a hundred girls, the guy just wouldn’t budge. Then you come back and it’s fucking sunshine all over his face. I know when to give up.”

Oddly, you understood exactly where Chase was coming from. He was so strongly rooted in Sam’s corner, all of his thoughts were biased, even if it meant being critical and wary of you. You hadn’t tried to achieve it, but somewhere in the middle you had gained both Chase’s confidence and his liking.

“What’s it like working under Sam?” You asked, changing the topic as well as voicing a curiosity. 

Chase gave you a look. “Now or then?”

“Both,” you said after a minute.

“You’ve got to know, I used to look up to Sam when I was at Stanford- not that he knew I existed back then. He was in the final year, I was in the first, and he was everything I wanted to be- Top of his class, valedictorian, popular with the ladies. I applied at Johnson’s because of that.” He paused, continuing only after an encouraging look from you. “He was nothing like I remembered. Every time I faced him, there was a very real risk of being fired for the smallest mistake.”

Chase laughed. You did not. He was describing a Sam you couldn’t imagine, a Sam that shouldn’t have existed.

“Now he’s my best friend. At any rate, he’s about the only person who puts up with my dumb antics.”

“He puts up with a lot from a lot of people,” you murmured, absentmindedly staring at the lake. 

A small moment caught your eye. The birdy that had been flying back and forth between the girls and the boys, flew over a bit too high and far. And as a reflex, Max, his eyes up, backed away fast.

“No!” You were already running by the time you realised that the terrified scream was yours. 

“No, no… Chirp!” You shouted, but it was too late as the boy’s feet hit the wet slope. He slipped and tumbled back, rolling right into the water. 

Your legs were aching from how hurriedly you dove after him, right into the bay, lashing in the water till your hands found Max’s body. Yanking him out of the water and against your body, you backed off quickly. You cradled his body on the sandy shore, frantically checking his face, arms to make sure he was alright. Max didn’t look hurt, just shocked and a bit scared.

“Are you okay?” You asked, too loudly. Max nodded. 

Hands landed on your shoulder, your head. Voices told you to let go but you did not release Max, not till another voice murmured in your ear, “It’s alright, Y/N. He’s okay.”

You turned on Sam. “Why did you let him near water? Why weren’t you paying any attention?” You yelled, not relinquishing your hold on Max.

Sam crouched down before you, not attempting to reach out to Max, who was staring wide eyed at you. 

“What if something had happened to him?” You wiped at your tears with the back of your hand. “He’s just a little boy! How could you be so careless?”

Sam shrugged out of his jacket and carefully wrapped it around your shoulders. 

“Max is alright,” he said calmly, “You can let go of him.”

“No!”

“Y/N, you’re all wet and you’re starting to shake. Get inside the car before it gets worse.”

“But Max…”

“Max is fine,” Sam said in the same patient tone. “Look at the water, it’s not even waist deep. This side of the bay is very shallow for, at least, fifty yards and Max can swim very well.”

The realisation came very suddenly. Max had never been in any danger at all. The girls had sarongs on, maybe they had all intended a swim. You had needlessly created a scene, drenched Max more than he needed to be and yelled at Sam for being an irresponsible father.

The tears spilled over again but because of a different reason this time- shame. You let go of Max the next instant, staring pointedly at the ground.

Max turned in your lap. Small, soft hands came up to wipe away the tears from your eyes. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” he said. “I won’t go near the water again.”

You threw your arms around him again and sobbed against his little neck. The people around you seemed to be closing in but you didn’t want to look up at any of them. Your heartbeat was thudding erratically against Max’s head but he didn’t make a move to leave or get up.

“C’mon, girls, start packing,” Jody ordered over you. “Give Y/N some space to breathe. You, too, lover boy!”

Four sets of feet scampered away. 

“Chase, take Max to the blankets. There’s a fresh set of clothes in his bag.”

You did not want to let go of the boy. Doing so would make you face Sam.

It seemed Max was reluctant as well, but with one look at Sam, he disentangled himself. You felt the softest brush of his lips on your cheek and then Max was walking away, his hand in Chase’s. 

Sam put both his hands against your arms and pulled you to your feet. He drew his coat tightly around you and started walking you towards his car, his palm firmly planted against your back. 

You let him, without another word as he opened the door of the passenger seat for you to get in. Sam got in on the other side and turned the heat up. Only when the car started did you shake out of the quiet.

“Wait. Max?”

“Don’t worry about him. Chase will drive him home.”

Sam’s voice betrayed no emotion. Not anger or hurt. It was as composed as the many lectures he had delivered.

Ashamed of even meeting his gaze, you tipped your head against the window, glad that the side was facing the road instead of the bay and closed your eyes. It felt like floating in bliss if you buried your emotions down- this sensation of gliding on a smooth road, the heat in the car swirling with the scent of Sam’s cologne. It felt familiar and safe. 

All too soon you were jerked awake, the car easing into the driveway and coming to a stop. It was already dark outside. Somehow you had slept through the whole ride. Your clothes were completely dry. 

“I’m sorry,” Sam whispered, his voice like velvet in the darkness. “I didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Straightening up, you turned to face Sam who was looking down at you with concern etched on his face. Slowly, you took his hand in yours and spoke through a hoarse voice, looking at them. “Please forgive me.” Those three words did not even begin to cover the regret you felt over what had happened. You were an outsider, looking in on Sam’s life with this strange hunger and desire. You wanted to be a part of his little family so bad, but you weren’t yet. You didn’t know Max the way Sam did, did not understand Max’s choices, and the thoughts behind them. You did not have a right to him or Sam. Ignoring all of that, you had yelled at Sam, the way a wife would yell at her husband for neglecting their child. But, Sam wasn’t neglecting Max. Max wasn’t your son and you were barely Sam’s wife. 

“It was thoughtless and stupid to raise my voice at you and say those words. I forgot that Max belongs to you, that you could never be careless towards him. I had no right to yell at you in front of everyone.” 

Maybe it was all for good. Let Sam see what you were capable of. If he saw the truth of how broken you were, maybe he would stop wanting you in his life. Everyone knew how hysteric you could get now. So much for Jody rooting for you. So much for Chase’s hopes of Sam getting to be happy. They all saw you for who you truly were. 

“You remember what I told you the other night?” Sam asked. “When you came over and we sat by the swing?”

The lightness of his voice made you look up. He should be angry, at least, pissed.

“I told you that I didn’t care what people thought about us.”

“Doesn’t justify what I did… How it must’ve looked…”

“You know how it looked to me?”

Sam’s eyes were clear, no resentment in them. “To me it looked like you ran to protect my son without caring for your life. You didn’t know the water wasn’t deep, you can’t swim and you’re fucking terrified of water. I’m not even talking about what the cold does to you. Why on earth would I care about how this looks to anyone else?”

You were transfixed by the depth of his words.

“Those people either love you or love me. I’m sure they saw it no differently than how I see it.”

“What about Max? I must’ve scared him so bad.” The poor boy hadn’t said anything except apologise to you for stepping in the water. It hadn’t been his fault.

Sam pursed his lips. “I wouldn’t worry too much about him. I think he’s concerned about you the most.”

You put your head in your hands, weary. The fear was still an echo in your stomach despite the sleep, and it was getting stronger every minute- what if something had happened to Max?

“Can I ask you something?” Sam sounded hesitant.

“Mhmm.”

“Do you remember what you said right before you jumped in the water?”

You frowned, trying to remember. “Wasn’t I calling out to Max?” There had been no time to say anything or do anything else.

Sam’s face was tender as he said, “Yeah, you were calling out to Max.”

What a weird thing to ask! You tried harder, failing to remember what Sam was talking about.

Lights flared up behind. You leaned back, not realising just how close you were to Sam. The car coming from behind came to a halt at the start of the driveway. The doors opened and Max and Jack spilled out from either sides. Jack reached your door first. He opened it and pulled you into a hug without waiting for you to turn.

“Hey, hey, I’m okay.”

“You were shaking so bad.” 

It was actually nothing compared to what Jack could have witnessed if Sam hadn’t whisked you off into the car and in front of a heater.

Chase’s reaction was a bit more subdued. He looked worried about how you were doing and wasn’t his usual boisterous self. When Sam invited him for dinner, he took a raincheck. So did Jack. Once, Chase had driven away, Sam looked at you expectantly, but you just shook your head. You had intruded on their time too much already. 

You crouched down to Max’s level who was uncharacteristically quiet. “I scared you today, didn’t I?”

Max didn’t say anything. He placed the back of his hand against your forehead and then under your jaw.

“I’m alright, sweetie,” you assured him. 

Max hugged you around the neck, and you hugged back tightly just for a second. You would jump inside a hundred lakes a hundred times without a single thought if it meant Max would be safe.

“I love you,” Max whispered very quietly in your ear. You were sure no one else had heard it.

Just as quietly, you whispered back. “I love you, too, my little boy.”

“Get inside, Max,” Sam said. “Wash your hands and change out of your clothes. I’ll be there in a minute to run the bath for you.”

With a small sigh, Max went inside, but not before giving you a smile.

“I’ll wait for you right outside the gate,” Jack told you. “It was great meeting you, Sam.”

“Likewise,” said Sam.

You watched Jack almost run out of sight. 

“Cool kid,” Sam muttered, eyes in the same direction.

You sighed. “I can’t believe I ruined the picnic and put a damper on everyone’s mood.”

“C’mere.” Sam gently pulled you to him, so that your body was leaning against his. One hand was curled around your shoulder and his other hand was against your lower back. You could feel the tips on his fingers against the little skin exposed between the hem of your shirt and the waistband of your pants. It sent a thrill through your body. “It’s like you have to find something to worry about all the time. Quit doing that. Everyone’s just glad that you’re okay. We’ll do this again sometime, alright? We can push Chase in the water next time.”

You snorted.

“And don’t worry about the yelling. You know I always liked it when you got bossy like that.”

Sam’s words made you giggle.

“There’s my girl.” His warm breath washed over your face. 

What you did next was inexcusable. Without warning, you were reaching up on the tips of your toes, kissing him. Sam was surprised, his hands left your body, but you threw yours around his neck, raising yourself up against his tall frame. He was so shocked that he lost his balance and fell back against the wall next to his door. You did not give up, sucking on his lower lip, feeling the roll of his muscles under your hand.

Sam let out a primal sound and the next second you were turning, it was your back to the wall now. He hoisted you up against the surface by your waist with one hand, hitching your leg around his waist. The other hand tangled in your hair as his mouth worked hard against yours. His taste was heady, intoxicating and the way he was kissing you was enough to make you forget where you were, what you were doing. It would make you forget your own name. The hand at your waist travelled under the hem of your shirt, clutching at the skin on your lower back, and his lips started to travel downwards, sucking, biting, along your chin to your jaw and back down again to the column of your neck. Sam wasn’t gentle… and as you gasped, indecently, eyes closed, you didn’t want him to be gentle either. 

No, you wanted him to be rougher, go harder and never stop.

“Daaaaaadd!” Max sang from the inside and the two of your sprang apart. Your feet landed on the ground with resounding reality. 

“Coming,” he said, voice thick.

Sam bent down, hands on his knees, gasping hard.

“Oops!” You muttered. 

He looked up at you with a boyish grin, face flushed, looking years younger.

“I better go,” you said, biting your lip. “Jack’s waiting for me.”

You wanted nothing more than for him to ask you to stay and by the looks of it, he wanted the exact same thing.

“Uhhh yeah…” Sam huffed, shifting slightly, trying to adjust his jeans furtively. That made your face grow hotter. 

“Bye!” You ducked out of the porch, not looking back, least you should turn around and attack him again. What had gotten into you to react so wildly? That must’ve been highly _inappropriate!_

A small voice in your head told you that it was anything but inappropriate… technically, at least.

Jack’s face lit up when he saw you and then it immediately dropped.

“What happened?”

“Y-Your hair!” He muttered, looking anywhere but at you.

“Oh!” It was mussed up in all directions. Hurriedly, you ran your fingers through it, hoping for some semblance. “Sorry.”

After a minute, Jack sneaked a glance and then smiled impishly. “I’m sorry. It’s just the idea of you making out with someone gives me the heebies… You’re like my sister!” He screwed up eyes into slits to show the cringe.

You laughed.

At the door, Jack gave you another hug. “I gotta say, Y/N, I wasn’t convinced about this whole Sam business before today. Neither was Kev. You know we would always support you with whatever you decided, but seeing you with him was very relieving. I won’t worry again.”

It was heartening, how much everyone cared for you. 

You had to take a cold shower once inside, despite your composition. It was regretful, because the water washed away the remnants of Sam’s smell off of you. Idly, you wondered if you could steal the shirt he had lent you and keep it for yourself, climb into it when you went to bed like you used to. 

The shower was necessary to reign in the utter chaos that was your brain. The evening had been eventful enough, but what had happened on Sam’s porch? How were you ever going to keep your hands away from him now? Abstaining was your idea to begin with. Sam had bared his heart to you, and this was your decision to keep your hands to yourself till you said the three words back to him.

So much for self control. But the way he’d looked at you, angels would have fallen for less. You were only a human. Besides, nothing would ever compare to the feeling of Sam’s lips, his fingers digging in your back, his body pressed against yours. 

You got into the bed, missing the warmth of his body when your phone pinged. Rolling on your stomach, you reached out to grab it from the nightstand praying the text was from the one person you wanted it to be from. It was.

_*I missed that. I missed us*_

Hugging the phone to your chest, you sighed like a teenager back from her first kiss. The incidence with water should have shaken you, the way you were wrecked anytime you got drenched, instead you were laying in bed grinning like an idiot.

_*I missed us, too*_

His reply was instantaneous. 

_*It’s been a while…*_

What an idiot! You knew what he was implying. As if he could ever be less than perfect at anything, especially at _that._

You typed your response quickly. 

_*Oh, Mr. Winchester, you always knew how to show a girl a good time*_

The tightening in your stomach which refused to go away despite the cold shower was proof enough. Your skin still tingled. 

_*That’s comforting… and encouraging ;)*_

Yes, it was going to be really hard to go back to keeping your hands off each other now. Being around him was like breaking dams. Once you broke one, it was impossible to put that barrier back up again. The class tomorrow was going to be excruciating. For tonight, you let the wildest fantasies mingled with old memories take up all of your brain space. Even if it left you writhing in your sheets.

_*Good night, Mr. Winchester*_

You saw the three dots following one another and then disappearing as Sam typed. Once, twice, thrice. Finally the little pop up bubble appeared.

_*Good night, Mrs. Winchester. I love you*_


	37. Chapter 37

“Is that a… _hickey?”_ Madison peered at your neck through slitted eyes. 

You hurriedly drew your scarf tighter around your neck, feeling the heat flood to your face. “No, it isn’t!”

She let out a howl of laughter, not believing a single word. Madison was still giggling when Sam’s lecture began. You couldn’t help but notice the spring in his steps, the ring of happiness in his words and the cheerfulness of his demeanor. The class was still presenting their hypos from last week, Sam encouraged everyone to give their opinions. Thankfully, or rather tactfully, he did not call upon you to present your hypothesis today.

Before you could exit the class however, he did, call out your name. “Ms. Y/L/N, would you have two minutes?”

You walked to the dais with shaky feet. Unfortunately for you, a few more people followed you for the post lecture queries.

“I’ll see you later, Professor,” you said as blandly as you could. “I have to be at the library for my shift.”

You weren’t working today. Hopefully Sam would catch up on that. 

He did. 

Half an hour later, he found you in the librarian’s room, where you were sorting through some papers for the Ethics assignment. 

“That’s a lovely scarf you’re wearing!” Sam said, coming to your side.

Flustered, you stood up, running your hand through your hair. Sam caught hold of a stray lock and wound it behind your ear, his fingers lingered there just a moment longer before he pulled them back.

“Don’t you have to be at work?” Your voice was breathless.

“Was about to leave,” he said. “Stopped by to ask you if you were free this evening.”

“Why?”

“I was wondering if you might want to have dinner with me and Max.”

Cue, the fluttering in your stomach compounded itself. “You can’t cook!”

“I’ve had years to improve upon that. No food poisoning, I promise.” He looked at you with those puppy-dog eyes. “Will you come?”

Like hell you were saying no. “Sure, I’ll be there. What time?”

“7:30?”

“Sounds perfect!”

An evening with two of your favourite boys in the world seemed like a treat you didn’t deserve.

“That really is a pretty scarf,” he complimented.

Which reminded you. Pulling the scarf aside, you glared at him accusingly. “You gave me a hickey!”

Sam’s face reddened and you burst out laughing. 

“Sorry, I’m just so out of practice. I’ll do better next time… unless you don’t want me to.”

He walked out laughing, with a call of “See you in the evening,” leaving you with your face in your hands out of embarrassment. You’d forgotten how brazen Sam could get if he wanted to be. You loved him for it, as all his filters came down one by one.

You knew you shouldn’t be encouraging his flirting, it was hardly fair to him, but boy did it feel like bliss. And if it was making Sam so happy, how could it be such a bad thing?

There was a small eruption of hoots back in your apartment when you broke the news of the dinner to them. Almost everyone was onboard immediately- except Kevin. You found him sulking around in the kitchen later in the evening.

“Everyone gets to meet your hotshot husband, Y/N!” He complained. “Everyone except me! How is that fair?”

“You can join me for dinner.”

Kevin made a face. “No thank you. Everyone has a cool first meet story with him. Pam flirted, Meg yelled and Jack discussed Poe.”

“Cas hasn’t formally met Sam, either,” you reminded him, emptying the scones into a tupperware.

“Yeah, but Cas knew from the start. You showed him a picture before anyone else,” Kevin accused.

“He saw it in the thumbnail of an email contact. Stop blowing this out of proportion and get your ass over for dinner.”

“I don’t want to be a third… wait, fourth wheel,” he said, dropping the whining, voice going serious. “Don’t you think it’s kinda cool that you ran into Sam here of all places? I mean think about it. This is a huge ass country and it’s not like you bumped into him in your hometown where it would’ve been only a coincidence. No, you met him here, in a place so removed from where either of you grew up or first met. What were the odds… that you should land a place in Stanford Law at the same time when Sam is a professor here? Even one thing going wrong would have uprooted the possibility. One mark less in LSAT, one late morning at work for Sam and Max’s case could’ve been assigned to anyone. But no, it went to Sam… and all of that led him here, to you. I think that’s incredible.”

You hadn’t looked at it like that. Kevin made it sound more than a chance… more like destiny.

His words were still swirling around in your head when you rang Sam’s doorbell at 7:30 sharp. There was a furor from the inside, clanging of an object falling loudly to the ground and a curse before the door opened. Max was panting, but his face was still pulled into a victorious smile. Behind him, a coat stand lay across the carpet, and farther still Sam stood at the end of the hallway.

“We were racing to get to the door,” he said.

Smiling to yourself, you stepped in and lifted the coat stand upright.

“You didn’t have to,” Sam said, eyeing Max.

The coat stand looked gothic and very out of place. You hadn’t noticed it before. “Why do you have this?”

“Came with the house,” Max explained. “We thought it added to the haunted vibe so we kept it.”

“And has it?”

“Naw, the ghosts just keep tripping and falling over it. It’s comedic, really.”

Snorting, you let Max guide you inside the house. He was in high spirits, if a little flustered. Seeing the kitchen, you understood why. The counter was loaded with food- chicken parmesan in a tray, egg rolls, drumsticks, mashed potatoes, mac and cheese and of course… a salad.

“Are we starting now or are we waiting for the other thirteen people to show up?” You asked, eyes glued to the counter.

Sam chuckled. “Hey, I only signed up for the chicken parm because I know it’s a favourite of yours. But this little one over here thought nothing was good enough, till we cooked the whole month’s ration.”

The corner of your eyes started to sting. You blinked rapidly to make it go away and examined the dishes one by one. It was too much food.

“Does he always cook all this?” You looked at Max, who snickered.

“It’s just salads and vegetables.”

You turned on Sam. “Hey, why are you feeding this sweetheart only leaves? Whatever happened to actual food?”

“With all the sugar you’re putting in him, I have to find a way to balance it out. So it’s your fault, if anything.”

You clutched at the pearls that weren’t there. “Oh, how dare you!”

Sam smirked. “Out with it then. What’s in that bag?”

“Scones and apple pie?” You mumbled, hiding your face. 

He grinned in vindication, placing his hand on your back to guide you to the table. The lightest of his touches sent your heart racing. 

The food was actually very good- chicken cooked to perfection, and the drumsticks were delicious. You wondered to yourself how Sam had managed all of it by himself, after a day of classes, work and a visit to court. Yet, he looked fresh, not a hint of tiredness. 

“So, how was your day?” Max asked, cleaning his plate of the first course.

You quickly exchanged a look with Sam. How was Max so much older than his years?

“He asks me that everyday,” Sam said. “I usually don’t have anything interesting, so please feel free to entertain him.”

The most interesting thing that had happened was the hickey drama. You couldn’t very well tell Max that. Tucking the collar tighter around your neck, you smiled at him. “Well, the lectures were mostly boring. Your dad’s was the worst.”

“Hey-” Sam objected. You continued over him pleased that Max was giggling. “Then, I went home and baked you the scones. And oh- Kevin was very eager to meet you guys.”

Max jumped up in his seat, telling Sam all about Kevin. You had long suspected that Kevin and Jack were probably Max’s favourite in your group of friends. 

“You should come over to my place sometime for dinner. Get to know all the guys. Everyone’s been dying to meet you, Sam.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes! I mean, you’ve already met Pam and Meg- though, not under the ideal circumstances, I admit. Kevin is Jack’s roommate. He works in SF as a programmer. He’s really cool. Then there’s Cas. Oh, Sam, you’ll like him very much, I know! He’s in the final year of med school.”

Sam raised an eyebrow. “Was that your friend at the dance night?”

“Yep, that’s the one.”

“He’s almost as bad as you at dancing. Almost.”

You shushed him, noticing late, as Max’s head went back and forth between you and Sam, that he was following your conversation. His eyes were bright, teeth flashing. A rush of love flowed through you, seeing his wide smile. The little scars on his face didn’t make you want to look away anymore. They were a part of him. If anything, it made you want to love him more fiercely. The past couldn’t be erased… however, it’s pain could certainly be diminished.

Max yawned widely.

“Am I keeping you from bed?” You jumped out of your chair.

“You’re sleepy already?” Sam frowned. “It’s only 9. Weren’t you excited to play for Y/N?”

Max shuffled from foot to foot. You realised he was having cold feet.

Crouching before him, you said. “You don’t have to play anything tonight if you don’t want to, as much as I’d love to hear it. Maybe we can persuade your dad to play?”

You looked at Sam hoping to see a smile of encouragement, instead his face was a mask of fear, feet slowly stumbling backwards without his purposely doing so.

“I told you Sam can’t play,” Max said patiently. “I’ll play something for you, don’t worry.”

“Will you come?” He asked Sam.

Sam did not reply. His eyes were still fixed on you, begging you- ‘please don’t ask me to play.’ The expression brought a pit in your stomach. His pain, an exact echo of yours- of losing a child. Your baby used to kick each time he played. Sam was so good at suppressing what he felt, in lieu of what he wanted people to see, that in the moments he slipped, the lost expression made him look haunted. He’d let you cry on his shoulder all night long, heard every word of your sorrow, and given you as much time as you needed. 

What had he received in return? No guarantee of getting you back in his life, no one to share his pain. There had to be a way to ease his agony, at least, begin to take away this haunted look. 

“C’mon,” Max tugged at your sleeve and you followed him out. 

He played simple tunes- brown girl in the wind, Hallelujah and prelude in C major by Bach. His delicate eyebrows pulled together in concentration, lower lip jutting out just a bit, as he carefully pressed the keys one after another in perfect discipline, until he was yawning again. 

When Sam came out of the kitchen, an apron, slightly drenched was wrapped around his waist. His expression, however, was composed once more.

“Brush your teeth, Max,” he said. “Change into your pajamas and pickout a book. I’ll be up with you after cleaning the rest of the kitchen.”

“No, I want Y/N to read out to me today!”

“Y/N has class tomorrow. She needs to go home.”

“Oh, shut it, Sam,” you admonished him lightly. “It won’t take too long for Max to fall asleep. Few pages wouldn’t hurt.”

Sam looked perplexed. “I couldn’t possibly ask you to-”

“You’re not asking me, I’m just not listening to you wanting to kick me out. C’mon, Max.”

You sat by his bed, reading out from the book he had picked out for you- his copy of _To kill a mockingbird._ Obviously.

_“…Mrs. Dubose lived two doors up the street from us; neighborhood opinion was unanimous that Mrs. Dubose was the meanest old woman who ever lived. Jem wouldn’t go by her place without Atticus beside him…”_

“I never understood what her problem was!” Max interrupted. He was tucked in his favourite Grey blanket. Surprisingly, seeing him in it didn’t hurt at all.

“Well, she wasn’t a very nice person.”

“That’s not what I mean. What was _her_ problem with Atticus not getting married again? Isn’t that Atticus’s problem?”

True to his classic self, Max was asking layered questions that were difficult to answer. 

“People love to make opinions on the way others should live their lives. I think Mrs. Dubose hated the way Atticus raised his kids. She obviously thought Scout should be more lady-like… and Jem… you know she loved harassing him. It’s not fair that the children should’ve had to deal with her dislike for Atticus. She thought a woman’s presence in the house would’ve changed all that.”

“But she liked Atticus’s wife. Why would she want her replaced? And how could she hate Atticus for the exact same thing- loving his wife?”

You stared at Max with what must have clearly been awe. You used to wonder, when you first found out about Max’s favourite book, how much of it he understood. Maybe he understood the book more than most adults did. 

At this point you weren’t even sure if the conversation was still about Atticus. 

“The point isn’t why Mrs. Dubose hated Atticus for not moving on from his wife. He didn’t fit her pattern of what a man like him should be doing. He was an anomaly and it drove her crazy that he was content with it. She didn’t hate him persee, she hated his patience, which made the kids what they were. We shouldn’t concentrate on what motivates hate. Rather, we should reflect upon what motivates compassion and apply it in our lives.”

Max seemed to think hard over it, before nodding to himself.

“Close your eyes, kiddo. We don’t want your dad to think I’m keeping you up.” He obliged with a small smile and you began to read again. You were up to the part where the kids were starting to sneak into the Radley backyard at night when you felt a hand land on your shoulder. 

“He’s asleep, Y/N,” Sam whispered. 

You watched Sam bend down and tuck the blanket around Max securely. Max was turned on his side. He looked so peaceful in his sleep. You couldn’t resist leaning in and placing a kiss on his forehead. 

Very quietly you tiptoed to the door and watched as Sam turned off the bedside lamp. He partly shut the door behind him, guiding you back to the living room.

You noticed he had changed out of his clothes, too. Maybe they had gotten wet in the kitchen. He wore a v-neck long sleeved t-shirt that you recognised from the other night over sweatpants. 

“It’s not 10 yet. Do you want to stick around for a glass of wine maybe?”

You raised an eyebrow. “I thought you were out of adult juice.”

“I stocked up,” he shrugged.

You sat on the sofa, chewing at the inside of your mouth as you waited for Sam, surfing through random channels on the TV he had switched on for you. At last you settled on a horror flick- a blonde girl was crawling across what looked like an abandoned parking lot, with her foot hacked up, leaving a trail of blood in her wake. Classic.

“I see we’re in the mood of blood tonight,” Sam said, handing you a glass of red wine. He took a seat next to you on the wide comfortable sofa just a couple feet away. It was too far, but you didn’t have an excuse to climb into his arms. Unfortunate.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” You eyed the level of the dark liquid in the glass.

Sam chuckled. “Oh, hell no. You don’t remember anything the next day. Being the only one in on the secret is no fun at all.”

“You could always tell me what happened that night, you know.”

“I told you nothing happened. You dropped in the bed and passed out.” It sounded like a carefully practised lie. You didn’t push him on it.

“This is the first time we’re drinking together,” he grinned. 

You gasped, realising he was completely and absolutely right. You had never been on dates to bars with him and well, the reason that led to your wedding required for you to remain sober. 

He raised his glass. “What shall we toast to?”

“Remembering stuff tomorrow morning.”

Sam laughed. “Oh, no. For the first time we should toast to something profound.”

“If you want to be all that deep, why don’t _you_ propose a toast.”

Something in his eyes changed, they went from casual to overwhelming. Sam raised his glass again and lightly clinked it against yours without saying anything. Hypnotised and unable to look away, you brought your glass to your lips and took a sip. Whatever expensive wine he’d opened, the taste was absolutely divine. All too soon you found yourself snuggled against his shoulder with a second glass in your hand. He’d turned the lights off, the only light was coming from the TV, bathing Sam in soft shades and shadows. The girl dragging herself through the parking lot was long dead. Her friend was still very much alive but you suspected he was in for a similar fate. 

You didn’t dare look up, least whatever had possessed you the other night should make an appearance again and you jump Sam’s bones. It really hadn’t been fair to him. The more you thought about it, the guiltier you felt.

“Sam?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m sorry I asked you to play the piano.”

You felt him swallow over you. “It’s okay. You didn’t know…”

“I did, actually. Max told me you don’t play and I pushed you anyway.” Why? To relieve yourself of your criminality for leaving Sam when he most needed you?

“Max had just started school when we bought the piano.” Sam’s voice sounded far away. “He had a rough start, that kid. Bouts of violence, wrecking things in the class. We used to go to a psychologist each week, but he wouldn’t sit still without me being present there. Then when we got him to sit, he wouldn’t speak. You see, Max had never seen children his age at all and he was being forced to sit with twenty of them. They saw his scars, the unkemptness and treated him like an alien. Max’s defensiveness only made matters worse. It didn’t help that Max’s first instinct was always to be physical- that’s all he had known.”

You tried to see what Sam was showing you with his words, but it was simply impossible for you to imagine the sweet, shy and sophisticated Max as a borderline feral kid.

“Worse still, everyone quickly realised that even though Max acted so strange, he was smarter than everyone- he could already read and write; a maid used to teach him. No one wanted to be friends with him, heck he was bullied like a pariah. It made me so damn angry and helpless, Y/N. There was nothing I could do to make it better for him.”

“So… how?” You failed to understand what miracle could’ve helped Max.

Sam tightened his grip on your shoulder. “Love, I guess… patience. I refused to give up. Miraculously, Max always trusted me. If I told him up was down and down was up, he would believe in a blink. It was scary to be in a position to mould a whole human being, but I had to keep my head straight and have faith. Slowly, bit by bit, he came around… smiled more, laughed even. I wondered about it till a visit to his school revealed he had taken a liking to an instrument. He wasn’t very good at it, and the teacher barely had time to pay attention, but the calm on his face… It was incredible to see him look so peaceful, Y/N. That was that. Next day, I buckled up, swallowed the horror and bought the piano. Got him enrolled at a proper music school. The classes worked more than anything had worked till then. Ironic that it had to be a piano.”

Tears pressed your eyes, “Sam, I’m so sorry… I-”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t say you’re sorry because I know if you had to do it all over again, you would still choose to leave Lawrence… leave me.”

For the life of you, you couldn’t object to that. It was the truth.

“I understand that now, Y/N. I know I’ve been so angry with you for so long. It never diminished the love I felt for you, I just discovered that it was possible to both love and be livid with a person at the same time. I think both the emotions just fuelled each other. I couldn’t rid myself of that bone crushing anger, and that made sure I never could get over you.”

“Are you still angry?” You whispered, looking up at him for the first time.

Sam shook his head, eyes clear. “Not anymore. Max- that little minx- he asked me the strangest question the other day. He asked me if I would have still wanted to adopt him if we hadn’t lost our baby. The answer was of course yes. It did get me thinking about all the ways my life would’ve been different if the accident hadn’t happened, or if you hadn’t left me. And as excruciating as the past was, if you hadn’t left, I might have never met Max. And that…” Sam struggled for words. “I just… I can’t imagine my life without him. After that… I couldn’t be angry with you.”

Sam’s words echoed a bit of what Kevin had said earlier- fate.

“You should know, I didn’t leave you because I didn’t have faith that you could make things alright,” you said through a thick throat. “I left because deep down knowing I was hurting you… it would’ve never let me heal. Seeing you struggle to keep up with me, seeing you fake a smile and put on a brave face for my sake would have opened my wounds each day, and you would have attempted a braver face the next day. We would be stuck in a vicious cycle of pain, hurting each other without wanting to.”

Sam leaned in to place a soft kiss on your forehead. “I know, love. I wish it hadn’t taken me this long to understand it.”

Slowly, you wrapped your hands around Sam’s waist, closing the distance between his chest and your face. In a lot of ways, Sam’s life had been worse than yours. You had cushioned yourself against the impact, and when it hit you, Sam had been there to hold you so tight, you never completely fell apart. He had suffered through each of those emotions all by himself. 

“You have every right to be mad at me. Every damn right,” you whispered against his shirt. “But it does make breathing a little easier knowing you’ve forgiven me.”

You remained nestled against Sam for a long time, staring at your empty glass instead of the movie where everyone was getting butchered left right and center. 

“Know what scares me the most?” Sam said, his voice deep and husky. “I’m _terrified_ that I’ll get used to this… _us_ … again. There are days when I’m sitting in my cabin, lost in daydreams of what we’d be doing for Christmas and then someone knocks the door and I get pulled back to reality. I just… I can’t help but be hopeful.”

You knew you should tell him the truth, tell him how much you still loved him. That you would sell your soul for Max, but a small voice in your head whispered the words you didn’t want to hear- _you’ll be an awful mom. You’ll bring your curse into their lives._

Max was different. He was special. Wanting to be a good mom was different than actually being one. 

No, you couldn’t intrude on their lives even if a shadow of doubt prevailed in your mind. Both of them deserved better.

“Please don’t think I’m pressuring you into making up your mind,” Sam said urgently, misinterpreting your silence. “Take all your time. I promise I’ll accept your decision without forcing you to change it. But just-” he hesitated- “While you think, can I, at least, try to be a good husband? Take you out, buy you flowers… that sort of thing?”

This was a brand new kind of torment, seeing him so vulnerable, pleading for a chance to be more. Why? Why couldn’t you make up your damn mind, snuff out that ugly voice in your head for good!

“Only if you let me try as well.”

“You want to be a good wife?” His tone broke the melancholy and the sardonic raise of his eyebrow made you want to burst out in a fit of giggles. “What would that _entail?”_

He was too much of a gentleman to initiate anything, unsure as he was of your feelings. 

Very slowly, making your intentions perfectly clear, you climbed into his lap and locked your hands behind his neck. Sam gulped, looking like a deer caught in a headlight. Deliberately, not breaking the eye contact, you leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth. “More of this, I suppose.”

“You’re making this really hard, Y/N,” he said, voice thick with something that made your stomach clench in a delicious way. You didn’t feel guilty about this today… after all, you had every intention of going back to him. You were just holding out till you were absolutely certain of being at hundred percent. This wasn’t playing him… more like practicing. At least, that’s what you told yourself as you trailed your lips to his mouth and bit his bottom lip.

Sam let out a strangled sound, his self control dissipating as he grabbed you by your hips and pulled you impossibly close. Both his hands wound up in your hair and he began kissing you in earnest. Not hungrily like the last time, but lazily, as if this was something he’d done a hundred times before- he had. As if he knew exactly what to do to get you panting- he did.

You moaned into his mouth and Sam slipped a hand under your shirt, fingers roaming freely over your bra belt. 

“I’m being very selfish, aren’t I?” You whispered against his jaw in between kisses.

“Honey, does it look like I’m complaining? Be as selfish as you want.”

Taking him up for his words, you disentangled your arms from around his neck and mirrored his actions, tracing the hard contours of his stomach under his shirt. Flawless. How was he even real?

“This is so much better than what I had in store for the evening,” he chuckled in between unhurried, wet kisses.

“And what did you have planned?”

“I was supposed to be grading your assignment actually.”

You dragged your lips over his ear and said before biting his earlobe, “How did I fare, Professor?” 

Sam’s whole body shuddered and you looked up just in time to see his eye roll slightly upwards. “Jesus, Y/N!” He groaned pulling back. “Are you trying to kill me?”

“Am I, now?” You asked, voice husky as you dug your nails in his lower back. The way you were straddling him was obscene to say the least. You could feel him against you. _All_ of him. No wonder he was taking a moment. 

Sam narrowed his eyes. “I know what you’re doing. And I need more of that thing in the bottle if the rest of my self control is going to make it through the night.”

Laughing quietly, you got off of his lap and withdrew back to the other corner of the sofa. You had been selfish enough, no need to push him further. “I’ll be good.”

Sam looked like the last thing he wanted was for you to be good. 

Regardless, reaching down, Sam grabbed the bottle and emptied it into two glasses. Everyone in the movie was dead at this point except the brother and sister who were wandering at the edge of the forest next to a ghost town. Because that’s clearly the brightest idea if you want to survive. 

Sam handed you your glass and opened his arms for you once more. You scooted back into the earlier, innocent position with your head resting against his shoulder. 

The killer came out of the woods (surprise!) and began chasing the duo as the girl screamed on the screen and you controlled the urge to laugh. All of it was so corny, you wondered why it was a cult classic.

“No deep and profound toasts?” you teased

Sam’s hazel eyes bore into yours, enchanting in their depth. He raised the glass and said, “to hope.”

“To hope,” you echoed in the quieter voice before bringing the glass to your lips. The wine wasn’t getting to you today because you were already drunk on something stronger- whatever this emotion coursing through you was. So much stronger than love.

You didn’t make it till the end of the movie or the bottom of your glass. Belonging was a heady thing, as well. It made you let your guard down. Too soon your eyes were closing of their own accord against Sam’s chest. His measured beat and even breathing lulling you further. Sam’s voice rumbled in your mind as you lost consciousness… _to hope… to hope… to hope._


	38. Chapter 38

The blaring alarm should have woken you up. It didn’t. What did wake you was Sam’s low curse somewhere over you. You opened your eyes already alert to see Sam moving under you on the sofa.

He was flat on his back, head against the arm rest while you were sprawled against his side. Next second you got up and away from him.

“It’s 7:30!” He pointed at the clock.

“Shit!” So much for staying just a bit longer to watch the movie. The TV was on standby and your glass of wine was still on the small glass top table, the red liquid benign in the sunlight. That drink had made everything seem like a cool idea last night- including obscenely flirting with Sam and then making out with him. Now your head was aching and you didn’t have clothes to wear for college. What must Sam be thinking of you?

As it turned out Sam had other things on his mind, because he jumped up right after you and hurried for the stairs. Halfway up he realised you were still standing there, and his head whipped back as he came to an halt.

“Max,” he said, panicked. “He’s gonna be late for school.”

Amazingly, a suppressed giggle burst through your lips. The mundaneness of his worries was funny and heartwarming.

He rolled his eyes and continued on his way up.

Once Sam was gone, you looked around yourself. Your jacket lay discarded on the floor along with your plaid t-shirt, leaving you in your black tank top and grey leggings. That was hardly something to wear to classes. If you ran back to your apartment, you might just have the time to change into something decent for class.

From above, Sam’s exasperated voice sounded, “I swear, Max, if you don’t get into that tub right now, so help me God, I will _throw_ you in it.”

There was some shuffling and small footsteps hurried down the stairs.

“Y/N! You’re still here!” Max’s hair was twisted in every which way, but his sleepy face was split into a huge grin.

“Hey, Max,” you waved, slightly embarrassed at being found in his house the morning after. 

“Look, Sam, Y/N’s still here.”

Sam appeared behind Max and grabbed him by the waist, picking him unceremoniously like he weighed nothing. “Yeah she’s here and you need a bath. You’ll miss the bus!”

“You can drop me off.”

“Not if you don’t start getting ready _now!_ I’ve to still make you breakfast and pack your lunch.”

“But, Y/N-”

You decided to jump in before the situation escalated. “Why don’t you get Max in the tub and I can pack his lunch,” you suggested to Sam. “Just tell me what to do.”

“You’ve got class,” Sam said, brow furrowing slightly.

“Which won’t start till you show up anyway.”

He titled his head. “Touche.” Then, he looked at the kitchen. “There’s no time for eggs or a sandwich, so pack something from yesterday’s leftovers. It’ll have to do for today.”

There was too much left from yesterday’s extravagant dinner. However, you found the eggs before you found the leftovers. 

Sam’s kitchen wasn’t too familiar, but it was organised. Good thing you knew exactly how he arranged things, so you easily found the ingredients for grilled cheese and some scrambled eggs. By the time Max and Sam made it downstairs, still bickering trivially, the grilled cheese was sizzling wonderfully in the pan.

“Fooooood,” Max sang, bounding down the kitchen. 

You beamed at him. “Grilled cheese good enough for your lunch? I’ve packed some apple pieces and some carrot and cucumber salad. We have eggs for breakfast.”

Sam was wearing trousers without a belt and a white undershirt. You averted your gaze, before it became too much of a temptation.

“You didn’t have to,” he said, trying to stuff Max into a shirt. “Put your hand through the sleeve!”

Max made a protesting sound at the unnecessary hurry. 

“Kid, I have class in less than an hour! And I’m not even dressed yet.”

You hurried over to Max’s side and tugged him away from Sam. “Why don’t you go dress up? I’ll get Max ready.”

Sam looked unsure but you raised your voice, insistent. “Move move move!”

He didn’t need to be told twice as he took the stairs two at a time. 

Patiently, you helped Max into his shirt, socks and shoes, then grabbed the comb from the counter and brushed his hair. Once Sam was down, you switched places. He took up the lunchbox packing and you hurried into the bathroom to make yourself presentable. With your hair tied up, and the jacket clubbed with the scarf, you looked halfway decent. Grabbing Sam’s cologne, you sprayed a bit over you to mask the lingering smell of wine.

Downstairs, Sam and Max were waiting for you at the door, ready to go. 

“That’s record time,” Sam informed you, pulling the car out of the garage. He beckoned for you to take the shotgun while Max jumped into the backseat. “We might just make it in time.”

As it turned out, you _did_ make it in time. Kids were still slowly making their way through the front gates. 

“See, you were freaking out for no reason,” Max pointed out. The look Sam gave him made it clear that Max was pushing his luck with the retorts.

Beaming, Max stuck his face between the two front seats, and first, pecked Sam on his cheek, then you.

“Bye, dad. Bye, Y/N.”

You watched him jump out of the backseat and run towards the school. At the entrance, he turned around and waved in your direction. Sam mirrored the wave before realising the glass was tinted and Max couldn’t see. You brought your own hand down quickly.

Once Max was inside the building, Sam hit the gas and turned the car around.

“Uhh… should you be dropping me off somewhere?” You asked awkwardly.

He raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t we heading to the same class?”

“Yeah, but we can’t go in together.” It appeared you were the only one concerned about his reputation.

Sam rolled his eyes. “Fine. Get down at your usual entrance. But I’ll beat you to class and you know I don’t entertain late entries.”

“You do no such thing,” you said as the car came to a halt.

Sam leaned across the distance between you and placed the briefest of kisses on your lips. “See you in five.”

So, it was in a thoroughly dazed condition that you walked to your usual seat. For all his claims, you had beat Sam to the class.

“THAT is a man’s cologne, lady!” Madison squealed. “Familiar, too. A hickey yesterday and now this? You don’t even have your laptop or books with you! When are you going to tell me about your mystery man?”

Thankfully, Sam saved you from having to answer as he sauntered into class. 

“Sorry for the delay. Late night and a busy morning,” he grinned.

Jacob Ellis in the front row cleared his throat suggestively and Sam widened his eyes at the guy in fake offense. “Hey, my kid missed the school bus!”

A few people laughed, a lot of the others stared at him. Besides you, Madison swore softly. “What the hell? He has a kid?”

You gave her the ‘well, yeah’ look.

Sam was about to start with his class when someone else came in late. Rebecca. To your surprise, without acknowledging Sam’s nod, she came right up to sit on your other side. You exchanged a confused glance with Madison, who shook her head. She had no idea what was going on, but you both of you seemed to agree on one thing- it was deliberate. 

Ignoring Rebecca, you did your best to pay attention to what Sam was saying. It was hard because she kept smirking in your direction throughout the lecture. Only towards the end did Paul, the TA, rush up to Sam to whisper something. Sam’s expression changed from genial to tense in a second flat. He seemed to ask a question to which Paul shook his and shrugged, looking worried. 

Sam faced the class again. “Looks like we have to cut class short, folks. I’ll see you tomorrow.” With that, he packed his case and left with Paul, urgency in his stride.

“Like hell he’ll see us tomorrow,” Rebecca snorted.

Madison narrowed her eyes in suspicion. “What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you ask your best friend forever, Ms. Y/L/N, over here?”

You stood frozen in your place as both eyes turned on you- confused and loathing.

Rebecca sighed. “Fine. If you’re going to drag it out of me, Y/N, then so be it.” She regarded Madison. “Your darling friend here has been screwing the professor silly. How else do you think she’s topping the class?”

“Shut up!” Madison spat. “How dare you?”

“How dare I?” Rebecca seethed. “Ask her if she hasn’t been going out and around with Sam Winchester.”

You simply couldn’t find your voice. 

“I knew there was something going on with you, Y/L/N. Which is why I followed you last night right to Sam Winchester’s house. You didn’t come out till, at least, one in the night. So I walked into the Dean’s office first thing in the morning to register a formal complaint against our darling Civil Procedure professor. Before you know, he’ll be out. As for you, Y/L/N, kiss your place as the head of the committee goodbye. No one’s going to even look at your face after finding out what you’ve done.”

Madison’s face was a mask of shock. “No…” she said in a shaky voice. “Y/N could never have… you’re lying.”

“Ask the boys. Brad and the others were there with me. In fact, I have a video recording. Really, Maddie, are you so blind? You were there at the pool party. You saw what happened. Guy sweeps her in his arms like a knight in shining armor. You seriously can’t be that naïve!”

Her eyes were brimming with malice as looked at you. “You’re finished, so is your kinky professor. I don’t think anyone will vouch for him, not after all four of us testified. He’s probably getting his ass handed to him right now at the Dean’s office.”

Next thing you knew, you were flinging your bag over your shoulder, hurrying out of the classroom and towards the Dean’s cabin. You didn’t know what you were going to tell the Dean, but Sam wasn’t going to get in trouble over this, not if you could help it.

* * *

Sam knocked once and pushed open the door of the Dean’s office with some apprehension. This was the first in all of his time working here that he’d been summoned right out of a lecture. Paul’s worried face hadn’t done anything for his nerves. 

Professor Clark, the Dean of Stanford Law School, looked up from his book. He had been the Head of Department in Sam’s time at pre-law, one of his favourites in fact. When Sam had applied for the associate professor’s post, Professor Clark had hired him without a question. Now, his expression was a mask of disapproval. He gestured to the seat before him, and Sam followed.

“You called for me, Professor?”

Professor Clark rubbed at his eyes under his glasses, then said. “I won’t drag this out, Sam. A student from the first year class has registered a formal complaint against you. She has accused you of having an illicit relationship with another student from the same class. A Ms. Y/N Y/L/N.”

Sam was dumbfounded. Rumours of affairs between students and teachers were nothing new. And for most of the senior staff, even if the rumours were true, everyone looked the other way. This sort of thing was never good for the school’s reputation and was usually snuffed out internally without making a furor. For someone to register a formal complaint was unheard of.

Professor Clark sighed. “I’ve known you for a solid decade, Sam. I wrote you the recommendation for your first job and not a word of it was a lie. You’ve made me very proud in all of these years and if it was one student, I’d have never believed a word, but for four of them to come ahead and testify? There’s a video of the girl entering your house.” He ran a hand over his mouth. “Your silence isn’t helping your case.”

“I don’t have an illicit relationship with Y/N,” Sam said finally. “At least, there is nothing illicit about it.”

“So you don’t deny that you’re in a relationship with her?”

Looking Professor Clark right in his eyes, Sam said, “She’s my wife, so I certainly can’t deny the relationship. We’ve been estranged for the past six and a half years and I only saw her in class for the first time since.”

It should have been satisfying on some level to see the Dean’s eyes widen in shock, but Sam felt nothing of the sort, only a sense of indignation that someone had decided to drag his love for Y/N through mud like this. Gone was his apprehension. It was replaced by a curtness. Sam had to remind himself that he needed to stay calm. “We never got divorced over the years, so legally we’re still very much married.”

“I’ve heard whispers of your story. In our setting, the word gets around. You know how the stories spread.”

Sam detected a hint of something he was very used to by this point in the Dean’s voice- pity. 

Professor Clark cleared his throat. “Why didn’t you tell me about the situation right from the beginning?”

“I didn’t see the reason to. What happened between us is our personal matter. I have never let that affect my professional life. Here, we’ve been nothing more than a teacher and a student. I’ve never behaved in any way that is less than ideal for a Professor in the class.”

“It’s not as easy, or black and white as you’re making it sound, Sam. You have to know how this looks.”

Sam shook his head. “And you have to know that I would never! Outside of this building, Y/N and I have every right to resolve our differences. And even then, I’ve never… we’ve never…” He stopped, disgusted that he even had to discuss such intimate details of their lives. The implications of the complaint were clear. He was being accused of sleeping with Y/N and in turn topping her in his class. It not only cast doubts on his ethics and her character, but completely diminished all the talent and hard work Y/N had put into securing that place. If anything, Sam had been harder on her than any other student.

“Professor, you can call for Y/N’s assignments and submissions, question Paul, go through the Email exchanges if you want. Assess her performance for yourself.”

“Sam,” Professor Clark raised a hand placating him. “I believe you. Even if your situation changes things, I still have to set up a committee and formally investigate the complaint.”

“I understand.”

The Dean hesitated. “In the meantime, just take it easy for the week, okay? You don’t have to take anymore lectures till the committee hearing.”

So he was being suspended.

“I would like to finish the topic I started today,” Sam said. “It won’t take more than half an hour tomorrow morning. Will that be alright?”

“That’s fine,” said Professor Clark, then seemed to add against his better judgement. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry this is happening.”

Sam nodded, not quite looking at the Dean.

“That will be all for now.”

The kindness and understanding in Professor Clark’s voice did not ease any of Sam’s anger. It wasn’t about his situation. Sam was worried about breaking the news to Y/N. She had been concerned about people finding out from day one, and now he was facing an enquiry.

He shouldn’t have worried about that part because Y/N was already standing outside the Dean’s cabin, looking like a mess. Tears were streaming down both her cheeks and the distress on her face made Sam’s heart sink.

The moment she saw him, Y/N rushed over, a sob ripping through her. “Sam, I’m so sorry… I- just-”

“Hey,” Sam said softly, taking hold of her hand and guiding her to a chair nearby. “It’s okay. Sit down for a bit.”

He called out to Professor Clark’s secretary who sat in front of his office and she hurried over with a bottle of water.

“Here, sweetheart,” she said, handing the bottle to Y/N, who refused to take it from the woman.

“Thanks, Greta,” Sam smiled at her tightly, “I’ll take it from here.” She threw a curious look at them and left.

“Breathe, Y/N,” Sam said urgently as she heaved, breathless from the crying. “Please have some water. You’re scaring me here, love.”

At last she took the bottle with shaky hands and brought it to her lips. Sam’s heart broke seeing her struggling to calm herself down. He waited for her to be able to breathe fully.

“I’m so sorry,” she said, at last, looking down at her hands. “This is all my fault! I shouldn’t have come over last night.” Then she realised where they were and frantically got up from the chair. “You… you shouldn’t be seen with me.”

“Y/N, this is not your fault! What’re you going to do about it? Go back in time and not marry me? Or just not apply to Stanford? Neither of us had any control over this!”

She looked around her crazed. “We shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have started talking to you.. I should go in and talk to Professor Clark. Tell him none of this is your fault.”

Y/N was so agitated, Sam had to grab her by the arms to make her look at him. “He knows. Professor Clark knows what the truth is. And do you really think a damn job is more important than you?”

That brought her up short. She stared at him, wild-eyed.

“Listen to me. It’s going to be okay. Think about this logically. If we had never split up, do you think they would have denied you admission into the college purely on the basis of you being married to a faculty? No, right? They might have not given me your class, and that’s the worst of it. They’re setting up a committee for the investigation, which will see through that bullshit complaint. It’s all going to be okay.” Sam didn’t really know that, but the words seemed to steady Y/N. Her eyes focused again. 

“I even get a week to myself,“ he added cheerfully. “We can go bowling with Max.”

She zeroed in on the meaning behind his words immediately. “They’re suspending you?”

“Think of it as a paid vacation. In fact, I have a hearing in LA on Thursday. Come with me. We’ve never been to a beach before.”

Y/N’s eyes were starting to fill up again and it was all Sam could do to not pull her against his body. The cat was out of the bag and he was suspended from his duties, so what did it matter? Only her fragile composure made Sam keep his hands to himself.

“I can’t keep being the reason your life gets wrecked,” she whispered. 

“Don’t you say that,” he countered, voice fervent. “We can’t undo the past, Y/N. If we could, you and I would change a lot of other things. You _know_ we would. But I’m not letting these idiots compromise my future. And I hope with all my heart that _you_ would be a part of it. Not some sneaky Stanford freshers class.”

She still looked torn. Sam made a split second’s decision.

Without looking away from her, Sam reached out under the collar of his shirt with both his hands and drew out the thin chain from around his neck and over his head till it lay a heap of metal entwined within the ring on his palm.

He unclasped the catch, released the ring and slid it on the third finger of his left hand. Still a perfect fit. 

Y/N’s eyes were an ocean of emotions- pain, wonder and… something _more._ She hadn’t said the three words, but Sam felt it in his gut each time she smiled at him. It was in the soft brushes of her fingers against his and in her furious kisses against lips. She felt something for him, and her beautiful eyes, open like the most interesting book in the world said it all for her.

“Ditch the day,” he suggested. “You talk to Molly, I’ll talk to Jody and clear your schedule. Go home and sleep it off. I’ll have Alex send Max over after his school, okay?” That should cheer her up.

Slowly, Y/N nodded. “I really need to sleep.”

Sam walked beside her till the entrance of the building. 

“You’ll be okay?” He asked.

Y/N laughed mirthlessly. “You’re the one facing an enquiry. I should be asking you that.”

“My answer will depend on yours.”

She shook her head ever so slightly in exasperation and Sam smiled. “I’ll be okay. Thanks for sending Max over, really.”

“I should pay you for babysitting at this point,” he winked.

“Maybe you should.” She gave him a tired smile before walking away, not looking at the small group gathered on the other side of the quad- Rebecca, Brad and a few others. No doubt the gang that had registered the complaint. Sam didn’t look at them either as he headed back to his office to collect his bag. It was incomprehensible to him that anyone should go above and beyond to cause havoc in their lives this way. Y/N was a gentle soul who never meddled in anyone’s life, and as for him, Sam barely knew the names of these people. 

Jody was in a class of her own. Sam quickly messaged her the gist of the situation, promising to call later. How he wished he could have skipped the rest of his day and spent it with Y/N. Especially because he was scared that she would let the insane idea that she was somehow bad luck for him fester in her head. Max couldn’t get to her any sooner than one-thirty. As Sam started on the road to San Francisco, he worried not about the suspension, impending enquiry or possible sacking. No, he hoped against hope that Y/N wasn’t overthinking this. The ring on his finger felt almost foreign after not being there for so long, but also not quite. Because it belonged there, always had. Sam felt a fierce joy at being able to show it off again. A symbol of his love… and hopefully, a symbol of his future. 


	39. Chapter 39

Meg walked you right up till the threshold of the classroom. Sam was already up on the dais, sifting through his papers, on point as always. 

Yesterday had been both a whirlwind of emotions and of scenes and words. True to his promise, Sam had arranged for Max to be at your place at one-thirty sharp. His happy chatter was about the only thing that kept you sane through the evening till your friends gathered at your place as was the norm. After Alex picked Max back up, you told everyone what had happened. Meg and Pam were furious. Meg, particularly, insisted on wanting to rip Rebecca’s head off. The guys for most part were appalled- especially Jack. He knew a bit about this sort of thing, it was happening in his department in plain sight and yet no one had said a word about it. They hadn’t left you alone until after you had fallen asleep on the sofa. You appreciated their love more than you could put into words.

The lecture hall seemed bigger than usual and more than a few glances were straying your way, whispers slowly becoming more and more audible. 

“Remember what I said, yeah?” Meg put a hand on your shoulder. “Fuck. Those. Bitches.”

A strangled laugh bubbled up on your lips. 

It made Sam look up from his papers. His gaze touched you for a brief moment, scrutinising your expression to his satisfaction before moving on to Meg. They both nodded at each other at the same time, before Sam looked away.

“Go on,” Meg encouraged and you made your way to a corner seat, not your usual one next to Madison. Your friend gave you a wave and then left for her class on the other side of the campus. More looks followed. You could feel them boring into your back. 

Sam cleared his throat and seamlessly picked up from where he had left off yesterday. His voice was devoid of any and every emotion, as if he was completely oblivious to the looks he was getting. When he raised his hand to turn on the projector, the ring on his finger caught the hitting light, glinting silver. 

“Sorry,” Madison whispered, coming to sit besides you. “It took me a while to spot where you were sitting.”

You were astounded at how casual she sounded, as if all of yesterday hadn’t happened at all. As if the rest of the class wasn’t hyper fixated on the five feet radius around you.

Madison drew out her laptop and started taking the notes. Had she forgotten what had happened?

“That will be all for Federal court laws,” Sam said. “Paul will mail you the assignment matter you need to hand in for it. There’ll be no classes for Civil Procedure for the rest of the week. When we meet next, we’ll pick up where we left off with the hypos presentation. Good day.”

Again, eyes followed Sam as he left, right until he disappeared completely from the view. 

“You think this one will be as hard as the last one?” Madison asked, stuffing her laptop back in her bag hastily. “I swear Paul took pity on me and cleared me in that assignment.”

The rest of the class started buzzing immediately. What had been only a background whisper was a full-blown babble now. 

“Oh, look! The star performer of the class is amongst us,” Brad said. “And here I thought you were just playing hard to get.”

There were two things you could do, stoop down to his level to give him back, or walk it off with your head held high. You hadn’t done anything wrong, neither had Sam. The least you could do was follow his example and keep your dignity. 

“Tch tch tch.” Rebecca’s grin was icy. “Poor little Y/N. I guess sleeping around didn’t pay off very well in the end, huh? The professor’s already packing his bags, no matter how confident he tried to sound.”

Lacey wasn’t gloating like the other two, she looked at you the way one would regard a destitute. “You could’ve done better, Y/N. It was alright when we thought he was just a hotshot. But the guy is married with a kid. Did you see the ring on his finger? No doubt he got his ass handed by his wife yesterday, so the ring’s back on. Don’t scooch that low for a few marks!”

“That’s enough!” Madison said, sharply and loudly. “Enough of this bullshit!” She wasn’t talking to the jerks in front of you, she was addressing the by-standing crowd that was hanging on to every word. “I can’t believe you idiots are even buying into this narrative! Look at her hard and ask yourself if she doesn’t deserve to top this class… or hell, every class. These assholes are trying to get rid of one of our best professors and you folks want to stick around for gossip? Un-freaking-believable!”

She grabbed you by the hand and pulled you out of the desk. “Lets go, Y/N. Standing here for too long might just lower your IQ. Something to do with intellectual induction.”

You let Madison drag you to an empty table in the cafeteria. 

“Are you going to eat something? Or you just gonna keep staring at the table?” 

You looked up at your friend’s furious expression and the question bubbled out, “How do you know they’re not telling the truth?”

Madison held your gaze for a long moment as if she was picking the words. When she finally spoke, she sounded careful. “It’s because I know you could _never_ do such a thing.”

“They aren’t lying, though. I _was_ at Sam’s house that night. Not just till one, but throughout. He dropped me off at the gate in the morning for the lecture.”

You waited for her look of shock or betrayal. It did not come.

“By ‘such a thing’ I meant sleeping with a professor for marks. Not going on a date night with your husband.”

It was your turn to look shocked.

Madison reached out across the table to take your hand. “I knew something’s been up for a while actually. You speak about him with such surety, like you know _exactly_ what he’s thinking. And the day you nearly drowned? You were calling him by his first name, the way one would call out to a loved one. I also saw his face, Y/N. He was deathly scared of losing you. That’s not the face of a man who’s holding a girl he occasionally screws. He looked like someone was torturing him.”

You shuddered at the image Madison was painting, seeing the scene from her perspective.

“I let it go, Y/N, I swear,” she continued. “I let it go because it was none of my business. But yesterday, after you left, I decided to do my own research. One chat with Molly was enough to know that Max is Mr. Winchester’s son, and adopted, with a whole other tragedy to back him up. Again, I’ve been with you long enough to know that you didn’t know who Max’s dad was right off the bat. Then something clicked. The guy you were supposed to go out on a date with was someone you had met in Kansas, and I have Mr. Winchester’s career learnt by heart to know that he hails from Lawrence. One look at the Lawrence wedding registry was enough.”

Just listening to her was making you feel sick to the gut. You didn’t quite understand why. Nothing was this simple in your life. Uncertainty, guilt and pain always loomed in the shadows, threatening to overpower every happiness you felt.

“You immediately thought of the registry?” You managed to whisper.

Colour drained from Madison’s face as she shook her head. “I searched your name in the newspaper archive of their library, looking for, I don’t know… some proof that you lived in the same town as him.”

Madison didn’t need to continue. You knew the exact headline her search would have pulled out. She tightened the grasp on your hand. 

“I know you don’t care about anyone’s opinion or approval, least of all mine. But just so you know, I’m so damn proud of you for trying to make your marriage work. Both of you deserve it and gosh, Max is such a lovely boy. I’ve never seen you as happy as you’ve been in the past few weeks. Don’t let those dumfucks pull you down.”

You felt a tear roll down your cheek. Today morning you were sure you had lost the trust of your closest friend in class. Madison really did care.

“Oh, please don’t tell me y’all are turning this place into a cry fest.” Meredith put her tray of food on the table and collapsed in the chair next to you. “I’m _so_ done with the drama.”

“Mer?” Madison’s face would have looked comic in any other situation.

Meredith shrugged, chowing down on the burger. “I couldn’t deal with the bullcrap plotting. It’s so 90s daytime television.” She turned to look at you. “I don’t care if you’re sleeping with Winchester. Dude’s hot. You do you… or him, for that matter. Couldn’t give a flying fiddlestick.”

You had noticed that Meredith didn’t seem to be hanging out with Rebecca and the gang anymore. She hadn’t been at the pool party and sat by herself in the class. Something about the defensive hold of her shoulders made you realise she must have missed Madison and maybe even you. 

Meredith pushed her apple towards you as Madison took a bite of her sandwich. Tentatively, you dug into the apple. It was going to be a long day, a lot of days would be from now. At least, you didn’t have to face them alone.

* * *

“Stay here. I’ll just go get my chainsaw real quick.”

“Chase. Calm down.” Watching his friend pace across the floor of his living room wasn’t helping Sam’s anxiety. Chase had been to LA for work and had only returned now to find this mess.

“Calm down?” Chase exploded. “Those dirtbags are trying to ruin your life and you want me to calm down? Just when things were starting to look good again. It’s like you guys just can’t catch a break. Poor Y/N.”

Sam was trying to keep a positive attitude, but the moment Chase mentioned Y/N’s name, that went out of the window.

“How’s she doing? This must’ve been hard on her.”

The same question had been plaguing Sam more than anything. Y/N hadn’t come by to see him since or called him. All Sam could do was guess, and so far, none of his guesses were encouraging. “I don’t know. She wouldn’t talk.”

“Do you mind if I visit her?” Chase looked worried. 

“Course not.”

Max was supposed to be in his room, finishing his homework, but Sam knew he was probably lurking around at the top of the stairs. He knew something was going down, but no one had sat him down to tell him the whole thing. Sam wasn’t looking forward to the questions, but he could sense them coming.

“I don’t know why you bother,” Chase said abruptly, making Sam look up.

“Bother with what?”

“The teaching gig,” said Chase. “You literally don’t need the money. They’ll probably make you a senior partner before the end of the year. Just quit this place and move to the city. Everything will become so much easier. Wasn’t Berkley begging you to join their staff? If it’s still your thing, go teach there. That’s so much closer to Acton Gris.”

Chase had never understood Sam’s stubbornness to settle down in Stanford. He didn’t see the lure of a small house, or teaching for that matter. Not that he’d ever uttered a word to Sam before now. In his frustration, today, it came tumbling out. Sam didn’t think he could make Chase see. Their perspectives on this were vastly different. Sam had lived in huge glass penthouses… and all those extra rooms had started to fold in on him in his loneliness. He didn’t want to go back to that. Stanford had given exactly what he needed, when he needed it- a little place to live in, a normal school for his kid and a chance to share what he had learned from the profession. Stanford was his home.

And hadn’t this very place brought Y/N back into his life? How could he abandon her here to deal with the mess by herself? No, Sam refused to be driven out of here on someone else’s terms.

“Your endless patience grates on me sometimes, Sam.” Chase sat down in defeat. “I’m so mad that this is happening to you.”

The anger and hurt that Sam felt on behalf of Y/N, was clear in Chase’s eyes for him. 

Sam got up and placed a hand on Chase’s shoulder. “You’ve always had my back. I don’t tell you that enough, but I hope you know.”

“That does fuck all to solve this situation.”

If only Sam could make Chase see HOW much of Sam’s life was put together because of him. 

“You wanted to see, Y/N, didn’t you?” He asked.

Change of topic almost always worked with Chase.

“Yes!” He said, animated again. “My darling Mrs. Winchester is a freshman in law school, and unlike your boring self is well acquainted with plenty of smart, young women.”

“Do you even know where she lives?”

“The library, of course.”

Sam cracked a smile. “Go straight up the street. It’s the third building on the second turn. There’s a fountain of a mermaid in front. She lives on the third floor. From what I’ve been told, it’s the only house with people in it at all times. You’ll know.”

“Alrighty. See you in the morning. Let’s take your car.”

Chase left in better spirits. Sam knew he’d manage to crack Y/N right up with his antics. He only hoped that in some way, she managed to cheer him back.

****************

_“… He held them down to me. They were almost perfect miniatures of two children. The boy had on shorts, and a shock of soapy hair fell to his eyebrows. I looked up at Jem. A point of straight brown hair kicked downwards from his part. I had never noticed it before. Jem looked from the girl-doll to me. The girl-doll wore bangs. So did I.”_

Max snickered.

“What?” Sam put the book down on his chest.

“I just think you should read Scout’s part in a high pitched voice so you sound like a girl.”

“The whole book is narrated by Scout!” said Sam. “You want me to permanently damage my vocal cords?”

“Y/N reads it nice and slow.”

Sam didn’t miss Max’s coy tone.

“I see how it is. I read to you for years and you never have a problem. Y/N reads to you one time and suddenly she’s better than me?”

“It is how it is.” Max shrugged. “I’m a bit jealous of Scout and Jem. Dill, too.”

“Why?”

Max snuggled against Sam’s side, where he was laying in the bed. “They have nicknames!”

“Your name is already so short. I can’t make it shorter than that.”

“And whose fault is that?”

Sam turned his head in Max’s direction, pushing his specs up to his forehead. “What now?”

His kid looked at him in mild annoyance. “You could’ve changed my name to something cool at the start. Like Maximus Caesar or something. But you didn’t.”

“You know that the guy got stabbed, right? Twenty-three times.”

“After being a king!”

“NOT the lesson you take away from that play, kiddo,” Sam chuckled, placing the book on the nightstand. “Don’t you like your name?”

“I do. Especially the middle name,” Max huffed. “Would’ve been nice to have a nickname still.”

“If you want a nickname, we’ll give you a nickname. And guess what? You get to pick.”

Max looked up through his long lashes, and said quietly, “How about Chirp?”

Sam stilled, heart dropping right through his chest.

“Where did you hear that, Max?”

He deliberately pressed his toes against Sam’s thigh. “Y/N called me that a couple of times.”

“When?”

“At the picnic and then yesterday when I picked up the hot cookie from the tray.” Max frowned.

Sam had been around for the first time. He didn’t know what hurt more- hearing her say the name or knowing that she wasn’t realising it. 

“If she calls you that, you should take it up with her… just don’t bring it up now. Wait for a few days, okay?”

“Is it because of the bad people at college who are being mean to Y/N and you?”

There it was. 

“Yeah.” 

Max turned on his side to face Sam. “Why can’t you stop the bad people from doing bad things? Lawyers can do that, right?”

Sam knew Max’s perception of lawyers was very much influenced by his favourite book and what Sam did. He viewed it as a superpower that allowed Sam to help people and children. He would grow up to learn that most people chose the profession because of how lucrative it was, and not for the good that could come out of it. For now, Sam didn’t impose his views on Max.

“Lawyers come into picture after bad things happen,” said Sam. “They’re supposed to help bring justice. In this case, I’m not the lawyer, I’m the defendant.”

“Defendants can choose to represent themselves.”

Sam smirked down at his kid. He was wicked smart. “Yes, they can.”

“You’re the best. You’ll win.” Overconfidence oozed out of every syllable. 

If not for his own sake, Sam fervently hoped that was the case for Y/N’s. “I sure hope so, buddy.” 

Max’s bed was very small. Sam was used to folding his knees and cramming himself in it for the reading sessions. It had always been their thing. That’s the only way Max would sleep at first, when Sam read out loud to him. First year, Max had slept in Sam’s bed. If Sam had known the tradition of reading was going to continue, he’d have made Max a bigger bed. 

His boy burrowed against him. “Sam?”

“Yeah?”

“You think Y/N will come live with us?”

Sam sighed. “Honestly, I don’t know, kiddo.”

Despite all his attempts at curbing it, hope, with light feet, had made its way into Sam’s heart and lived there with a stronghold now. Chase wasn’t wrong. Except for a few hiccups, things had been going well for them. He was truly starting to believe that his Y/N would return to him. Sam knew now, that a big part of the reason she left was to protect him- from a childless future, and her supposedly cruel fate.

If the idea that she was causing him hurt in any way permanently got etched in her mind, there was very little Sam could do to uproot it. Their present situation wasn’t helping one bit. Sam’s paranoia was out of the roof. Every minute he was plagued with the doubts that this one thing would make her mind for her to not be with him.

What would he do then? Continue living two streets down and pretend to not love her anymore? Sam didn’t think he could do that. He had promised to respect her decision, even if she chose to leave them, and he would. However, Sam didn’t think he could stick around to watch her not be his everyday.

Yes, Stanford was his home, but so had been Lawrence. His brother still lived there, and yet, once Y/N had left him there, she had taken the home out of Lawrence. Would she take ‘home’ out of Stanford as well?

Chase’s suggestion came back unbidden to him. Move to SF, take up Berkeley on their offer. His friend had meant it as a solution to be with Y/N. It was a tragic irony that Sam should see it as an escape from her.

“I think she’ll come live with us,” Max said, contemplative. Sam thought he’d fallen asleep. “She really likes me, you know.”

Sam snorted. “For a three and a half feet high person, you’re really full of yourself! As if I’ll have nothing to do with her decision.”

“You’re not much of a cook, you don’t read Scout’s dialogues in a high pitch voice, you’re not buying me the home bowling set and you’re not letting me get a dog,” Max said patronisingly, counting the list on his fingers. “I, on the other hand, am nicer, smarter and not freakishly tall. I also complement her on the cookies.”

Sam sat up in the bed, eyeing Max incredulously. “First of all, how dare you! You have no idea how bad I used to be at cooking. This is practically Michelin star restaurant food. And bringing the dog into this is below the belt. I never said no… just not now.”

“So you don’t deny that I’m nicer, smarter and you’re freakishly tall,” Max grinned slyly.

Sam made a face. “No need to be so smug about it. Now go to bed. I have to leave very early tomorrow.”

He was driving to LA in the morning- his steady client had a follow up hearing. While there, Sam wanted to go see how James was doing for himself. James had once lived in the most notorious boy’s home in LA. If things had taken a turn for the worst, Max would have ended up there. That thought alone was enough to motivate Sam to be a beneficiary to the place. It not only let him help the place monetarily but also have a say in the legal decisions. Anytime a kid got into trouble he didn’t deserve, Sam could arrange for a pro bono. 

Drives to LA, to be so far away from Max always made him a bit apprehensive, but Sam had an uneasy feeling about tomorrow. He’d asked Y/N if she wanted to come with him, knowing very well that she wouldn’t. The thought of her being around when he wasn’t was comforting, for Max’s sake.

“I won’t be back before midnight. You’ll be okay with Alex, right?”

Max nodded. “Can we go see Y/N at the library tomorrow?”

“Sure. Just be back before dinner. And don’t annoy Alex. She has her finals coming up.”

“She’s the one who annoys me!”

“Sure, sure,” Sam said. “Sleep now. Do you want me to read some more?”

Max shook his head. “Night, dad.”

Sam bent down to kiss Max on the forehead. “Night, kiddo.”

His own bed felt big to Sam these days. It might have something to do with the memory of Y/N sleeping in it with him. Not that Sam tried to think about it too much, or the two times she had kissed him since. In fact, he actively avoided remembering the feel of her soft lips against his, the slide of her fingers over his arms, the way it felt to have all of her pressed against all of him. If he allowed himself to drown in those thoughts, he might just never resurface. Stolen dreams, that’s what they were. Sam hadn’t talked to her since saying goodbye at the entrance of the Law building yesterday. He didn’t want to call her in case she wasn’t up for talking. Crossing his fingers, Sam texted her.

_*Hey, I’m driving to LA tomorrow with Chase. Max wants to see you at the library. That okay?*_

The reply was quick.

_*Best thing I’ve heard all day. Can’t wait to see that lil’ ray of sunshine*_

Hope again. Y/N was so attached to Max… He fervently hoped that his kid was right about Y/N wanting to stay after all.

_*How you holding up?*_

She sent him a shrug emoji, followed by *Alright, I guess. Everyone thinks I’m gonna have a nervous breakdown. They won’t leave me alone*

_*Do you want me to come kidnap you?*_

He waited with baited breath. 

_*Please please please. I’ll let my hair down for you*_

Sam laughed quietly to himself. 

_*Judgy Judy hates me. Think she’ll let me pass at this hour?*_

It seemed like ages ago when Y/N had thrown up over him in front of that statue. 

_*You’re my knight in shining armour. I’m sure you’ll find a way to vanquish her ;)*_

Sam had to put down the phone. He’d seen for himself the looks everyone in the class was throwing her. Each one of those pierced him more than the looks he himself got. If he could physically put himself between her and those mean words, he would. But Y/N was stronger than this. People had been mean to her since he was a five year old child, saying abominable things that no kid should have to hear. A bunch of freshman jerks couldn’t hurt her. Sam wanted to punch each of them all the same. And yet… she still had faith in him. If only he could really be her knight in shining armor. 

His phone pinged again.

_*Drive safe tomorrow. Don’t worry about Max. He’ll be alright. Night <3*_

Truth was, _she_ was his knight in shining armour.

_*Night, love*_

Hope once more. Maybe it wasn’t the worst thing after all.


	40. Chapter 40

No one talked to you today, the whispers though, had escalated. No one was bothering to keep it quiet either. Not just your classmates, even the faculty kept giving you looks, ranging from distrust to pity. Professor Whitman, who never cared much about anything, took a whole minute to find you in the class and give you a once over, like he was seeing you for the first time- Sam Winchester’s flighty wife, back to ruin his life again.

The judgement you could take. The pity was painful. What did they see? A girl who couldn’t appreciate a good man? Or as much as you hated to think of it that way- a girl who couldn’t be a mother again.

It came as a surprise when Jody called you to her office after the class. When you followed her in, she closed the door behind and unexpectedly pulled you into a hug.

“I’m sorry about all of this, Y/N,” she said. “It’s awful.”

You waited for her to let go of you then asked, “How much trouble is Sam in?”

Jody pursed her lips. “I want to say, ‘not much’ but we’ll only know on Monday, I suppose.”

“Are you part of the enquiry committee?”

She nodded. “All of the freshman faculty panel is on there. You have nothing to worry about, Y/N. Your grades are impeccable. You can’t possibly be sleeping with all of us.”

“I’m not even sleeping with Sam!” You let out, frustrated. “And I’m more worried about what happens to him.” You were a student. The most they could do is sack you from the students committee and bump down your grades. 

Jody regarded you for a moment. “The two of you are so similar. It’s uncanny.”

She sighed. “I’ll be upfront with you, Y/N. As much as I’ve tried to shake them, Sam’s priorities are set. Even absent, you were very high up on that list. With you in front of him, there are very few things Sam wouldn’t give up for you.”

You already knew that. But was it right to let him make all those sacrifices for someone as undeserving as you?

The thought plagued you after you’d left Jody’s office, just as it had plagued you for the past two days. Outside, you ran into Madison.

“Oh, I was looking for you,” she said. “Sorry, I missed the first few lectures, but I have news for you. One good, one bad.”

“Bad one first,” you said, apprehensive. 

Madison made a face. “Starting the day after tomorrow, I have no place to live.”

“What? Didn’t you have a lease for the whole year?”

“Lacey is screwing someone, who knows someone else who knows the hostel director. And, well, long story short, my lease got prematurely terminated.”

Anger flared inside you again. This was happening to Madison only because she was staunchly standing with you. 

“I want you to come house hunting with me. My brother’s agreed to help me out with the money. So, I’m good to go.”

The idea popped up in your head immediately. “Why don’t you move in with me?” 

Her eyebrows knitted together. “Meg?”

“Meg’s almost moved out next door. I was supposed to put out an add for a roommate but with everything that’s going on…” Convincing Meg to continue with the move had been very difficult. She thought it was some sort of betrayal to leave you by yourself in all this mess. Cas supported her on that. However, everyone was camping in your living room anyway. 

Ultimately, you had to put your foot down and tell her to move her ass out. Your life might always remain a tragedy. It shouldn’t pause her or Cas’s life. She had still slept on your sofa last night.

“You’re serious?” Madison was trying her best to contain her excitement.

“As a heart attack.”

She let out a loud squeal and tackled you. “This is the best thing ever. We’ll be roomies!”

“Not if you call me that.”

Madison’s laughter rang out in your ears. “Now you’ve already offered. You can’t take it back, _roomie.”_

“Wait, what’s the good news?” 

Her face split into a huge grin. “I heard from the HR at Acton Gris. They won’t hire me as an intern. But she asked me to apply for the position of summer associate next year. She said my chances looked great.”

“That’s wonderful!”

“Yes! I’m thinking of applying for an on campus job this year.”

Madison was sincere, smart and she worked very hard. No wonder good things were in store for her. “Let me talk to Molly today. See if she has some inside intel on vacancies.”

“You’d do that?” Madison couldn’t stop beaming and you smiled right along with her. “The world is a much better place with you in it.”

Not everyone thought that. Following the pattern of the past few days, Rebecca decided to show her face again after the lecture. You had been expecting her at this point. Maybe she couldn’t sleep without venting off her frustration on you. As usual, she had Lacey next to her, who really had gone fully darkside.

“Missing your Professor?”

You saw Madison start, but Rebecca put in. “Oh, stop being her Lapdog, Maxwell. You don’t have to rollover each time she blows a whistle.”

“It’s alright, Maddie,” you said in a calm voice. “As it happens, I do miss him very much.”

“I hope at least the sex was worth it,” said Lacey.

You grinned at her. “Mind-blowing, actually. I remember this one time, I was screaming his name for literal hours. God, the things that man can do. It’s in-credi-ble.” You drew out the last word with a relish.

Lacey’s jaw dropped.

Rebecca recovered quickly. “Christ! You’re _shameless._ That man’s married with a son. Have you got no shame at all?”

“Weren’t you the one making out with Sam at Maddie’s birthday party in the bar restroom?” You shot back. “I remember you described the bit about feeling his abs in extreme details. He wore his wedding ring around his neck. So how are you not shameless?”

Rebecca’s face reddened in an instant. “What… how…?”

“Doesn’t feel so good when the finger is pointed at you. Right, Rebecca? When you’re the one being put on a spot and your character is being brought into question. It was okay for you to make out with a professor. Why are the rules so different for me?”

“I- I was drunk that night. And I never slept with him!”

“Don’t you dare paint him in that light. As if you were some drunk woman he took advantage of in a toilet cubicle.” You spat. “You’re so desperate that you don’t think twice about lying over something so demeaning. You didn’t touch Sam because at 2 in the night, he wasn’t even there in that bar. So shut that bullshit.”

There was a crowd gathered around you now, and she didn’t like her words coming back to bite her.

“How do you know where Sam was that night?” Rebecca questioned, clearly baffled and out of her element, but trying to salvage the situation and save face.

You rolled your eyes. “We’re having an affair, remember? Keep up, Rebecca. You filed that complaint. Also, don’t worry about his wife, really. She totally doesn’t mind.” You winked.

The murmur around you was starting to intensify. You didn’t know how long it would be before the actual story came out. Or if it ever would come out. Neither did you care. You didn’t owe an explanation to any of these people. 

Rebecca breathed out harshly, and spoke through her teeth, contempt dripping in each word. “You’re disgusting. That child of his-”

“Don’t. Don’t utter a word about that boy,” you hissed, the anger finally burning through. “You’ve done enough harm to Sam’s reputation. But I swear to God, Rebecca, you’ll live to regret it if you so much as dare to _think_ about Max, you deplorable excuse of a living thing.”

The warning was so raw, she flinched back from you as you stormed out. 

Madison did not follow you to the library. She knew when you wanted to be left alone. Attacking Sam was one thing, but you really did want to rip Rebecca’s throat for wanting to bring Max in the middle of it. The fierce protectiveness you felt for him was like nothing else you had experienced before. 

Throughout the following hour, you kept glancing at the door of the library, expecting Max to walk in. Sam had said he would visit. 

Maybe you would ask him to read out to you today. If anything, that could fix your mood.

“Umm… Y/N?”

You looked up to see Molly standing over you. 

“Hey. I didn’t see you there.”

She shuffled from one foot to the other looking at you awkwardly.

You squared your shoulders, realising what she might’ve heard. “Anything you want?”

“I- I wanted to say sorry.”

That brought you up short. “Why?”

Molly ran her fingers through her red hair. “I didn’t know you were… you know… Sam’s wife, and I said horrible stuff to you the other day.”

It hadn’t actually been _that_ horrible. 

“I’d heard the rumours but I swear I didn’t believe a word. Then I ran into Chase Lincoln yesterday. He told me.”

“Everything?”

Molly nodded sadly. “It was wrong of me to make assumptions, Y/N. What happened in Sam’s life was none of my business. And for the reason you left to be so horrifying? I could have never imagined. I’m really, really sorry. I don’t know how to apologize.”

“Stop saying sorry,” you said at once. “I know you’ve always meant well for Sam and for me, Molly. Everyone likes to gossip. It’s no big deal. You didn’t hurt or offend me.”

“There must be something I can do, _novia.”_

“Never bring it up again. Please. Let’s just forget that conversation happened.”

You saw her eyes start to fill up. “Take the rest of the week off, yeah? Come back Monday.”

“You’re low on staff already.” You did not want anyone’s sympathy.

“I’m not doing this for you,” she said. “Spend the weekend with Sam. He’ll need a distraction more than ever before that hearing on Monday. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Molly disappeared into the librarian’s room before the waterworks started. She didn’t want you to see her tear up so you didn’t follow her in, continuing with your sideways glances at the door. The sharp ring of your phone made you jump.

“Hello?” You answered the unknown number

“Y/N? It’s Alex. Sam left me your number in case of emergencies.” She sounded frantic.

“Is everything okay?” 

“Can you please come over? Max is really sick and… he’s… he’s asking for you.”

*********

Instead of knocking on the door, you straight up punched the security key and barged into the house.

“Max? Alex?”

“Up here!” You heard Alex’s voice. Taking two steps at a time you made it to Max’s room. Your chest contracted, seeing Max in the bed. He was curled up on his side, cheeks wet, face puffy from crying. 

Alex was sitting on a chair next to him, distressed.

“What’s wrong?” You asked, rushing to Max’s side and placing a hand against his forehead. He was burning up.

“I don’t know,” said Alex, “He was fine when I picked him up from school. He said he was feeling sick half an hour ago and now he’s running a fever. I tried calling his usual doctor but it says the number doesn’t exist anymore. He’s been crying and calling out for Sam and… you.”

“Did you try Sam?”

“He’s not reachable.”

“Max, honey, what’s wrong?” You asked as gently as you could. “Do you hurt somewhere?”

He opened his eyes and your heart lurched at the tears in them. “Stomach. My stomach hurts. I want dad.”

“Sam will be home at night. He’ll be with you.” You turned to Alex. “Is he allergic to something?” 

“Not that I know of.”

You were sure he hadn’t had outside food in at least a week, so food poisoning was out.

“Does your body hurt, baby?”

Max nodded slowly, drawing into himself. “And my head.”

“Alex, could you please find the first aid box and get me a thermometer?”

She scampered off to find it, relieved to have someone else take charge of the situation. Keeping one hand on Max’s forehead, you reached out for your purse with the other and pulled out your phone. Thankfully, the number was on the speed dial. He picked up the phone on the second ring.

“Cas, where are you?”

“At the hospital. Everything okay?”

“No. Max is running a high fever. I’d guess around 101. He says he’s feeling sick, and has stomach and body ache.”

There was a pause, then Cas said. “Can you drive him to the hospital? Bring him directly to the paeds ward on the 7th floor. I’ll see you there in fifteen minutes.”

Alex was back with the thermometer. 102.3. Thankfully, she had a license and Claire’s car was in their driveway. You asked her to bring it out front.

After she left, you gently coaxed Max into a sitting position, he looked drowsy and was still sniffling a little. “Honey, listen to me. You’re going to have to deal with a little inconvenience, okay? We’re going to drive you to the hospital very quickly.”

“Hospital?” He mumbled. eyes filling up again. 

“It’s just Cas there,” you soothed him. “You remember Cas, right? We all played jenga together.”

Max opened his mouth to say something, instead his eyes widened and threw up over the front of your sweater and into your lap. 

He started crying immediately. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Your eyes filled up. “It’s okay, baby. It’s no big deal.” You removed the puke covered sweater and used to wipe away the vomit stuck to your jeans. “See, it’s all gone. No need to worry at all.”

The retching had left him weak and shivering. 

“Just stay put a minute.” You hurriedly tossed your sweater in the hamper by the door, and pulled on one of Sam’s overlarge shirts over your T-shirt. Once back, you grabbed Max’s grey blanket and wrapped it around him. Slinging your purse around your torso, you lifted him in your arms and carried into the car that was already waiting at the curb. You held Max close to your chest in the backseat, whispering soft reassurances in his ears. 

Just as Alex pulled up in front of the hospital, Max threw up on you again. It made him cry harder. You realised it was not just humiliating for him, he was missing his dad terribly. 

“Max, honey, it’s totally okay,” you assured him, kissing his brow. “I used to throw up so much as a kid, gran used to call me _projectile Y/N._ Just puke all around me all the time. Hell, ask your dad. He held my hair when I threw up in the toilet. It’s my jam. And we’ve got a towel now. Let’s clean you up, okay?”

Thankfully, the blanket wasn’t soiled, so you could keep it around him as you carried him in the lift.

Cas was waiting for you there. He immediately guided you to a bed and laid Max down on it. You started to step back.

“Y/N, don’t go,” Max rasped out. 

“I’m right here, Chirp. I’m not going anywhere, but Cas needs to take a look at you.”

Max still reached out with his hand. You looked at Cas. He gave you a quick nod and you rushed to Max’s side once more, grasping his outstretched fingers tightly. Cas pressed Max’s tummy, asking where exactly it hurt, then checked the temperature again along with the pulse. You watched apprehensively as Cas pulled down Max’s eyelids and asked more questions. Meanwhile, the chills kept getting worse.

“It looks like he’s caught a viral fever. The nurse outside told me it’s been doing a round at the school. We’ve had many kids this week.”

“Why is he throwing up then?”

“It’s probably the phlegm. I don’t think there’s a reason to worry. I’ll give him an IV with paracetamol and nausea suppressants. He’ll feel much better in a few hours.” Cas hesitated. “Maybe you should ask Sam before we start the treatment. Only he can sign off on the papers. You’ll need the details of the health insurance.”

“I can’t get to him. We’ve been trying non-stop.” 

Would Sam want you to make such decisions on his behalf? Max was looking paler than usual and was clearly in pain. You couldn’t wait till midnight to start him on medication. It was killing you to see him hurting like this.

“Screw the insurance. I’ll pay whatever the bill comes out to be… and I’ll sign off on the papers as well.”

Cas gave you an apprehensive look. “Y/N?”

“Look,” you said through your teeth, “I’m still his legal guardian. I have that right. Just start him on the medication. I can’t bear to see him like this.”

“Alright.” Cas said something to the nurse behind him who rushed out and then came back with a syringe. 

“This is going to hurt just a little, Max,” Cas said, flicking at the needle.

You crouched down next to Max’s head. “You’re my brave boy, aren’t you? One little prick and that will be all. You’ll feel so much better afterwards. Can you do that?” 

Max gave you one quick jerk of his neck. “Close your eyes.” He did. 

Cas pushed the needle into the tiny crease of Max’s arm and you flinched, tears pouring down your cheeks. Max did not even make a whimper. The nurse stuck a piece of white tape over the puncture mark after Cas was done.

“You need to swallow these two little tablets,” Cas said, handing them to Max along with a glass of water. Max looked at you and you nodded encouragingly. Without any fuss, he did as Cas said. You hugged Max very tightly to your chest. “You’re the bravest little thing in this world, you know that? And I’m so damn proud of you. You get every cookie you can think of when you feel better, yeah?”

“We’ll keep him here till the nausea subsides,” said Cas. “Once he feels better, you can take him home.”

Cas seemed concerned, but it wasn’t directed at Max- which made you feel better. It was directed at you. “You better sign off on those papers, Y/N.”

“Can you please bring them here?” You pleaded. “I don’t want to leave Max.” The boy in question was still hugging your middle tightly.

“Of course.”

It was with shivering hands that you filled out the form. You stared at the paper for a whole minute before ticking off on the small box in the _relationship to the patient_ column against _mother._ Max had fallen asleep in your arms and the tears just wouldn’t stop. You knew he was going to be okay, the fever was already coming down and he had stopped shivering. Sweat dewed up on his forehead. 

Occasionally you wiped it off with the back of your sleeve. 

But you were terrified of this feeling- like the world would go dark if a single wrong thing happened to this boy. There was a point in your life when you were ready to own up to this feeling, looking forward to it even- and then you had lost it, along with every other emotion in your heart. Since the day you had met Max, you’d been dancing along the edge of the precipice of this very feeling- this selfless, immense love. Not ready to take the leap. Scared that you’d be shattered if you did.

Were you scared of being a _bad_ mother? Or were you simply scared of being a _mother?_

As you sat there, alone, in the small clinical room, with Max softly snoring in your lap, you realised that what you truly feared above and beyond everything was giving in to feeling this love and losing it again. 

If you accepted him as your son, and then something happened to him, you wouldn’t make it out of it alive. Literally. Not accepting Sam’s love and a place in his and Max’s life was not only a product of your doubts and self-hatred. It was a plain survival instinct. The epiphany was so strong, it left you breathless.

You felt a hand against your shoulder. Cas’s blue eyes were sympathetic in their depth. “You can take him home now, Y/N.” He didn’t try to reassure you beyond it. He had a subtle way of comforting without saying the words out loud.

You called Alex again, who had been reading in the waiting room and she drove you back to Max’s place. He’d been asleep through the ride, right until you put him to bed. Insisting that Alex go back home and study for her exams, you stripped down to your tank top, pulled on a pair of Sam’s tracks. After making sure that Max was still out, you cleaned up your clothes, and the mess on the floor and side of Max’s bed. You didn’t dare close the door of the bathroom, lest Max call out to you and you couldn’t answer. 

Taking the chance, you made some chicken soup for him, and only then did you wake him up, gently. 

Max called out for Sam the moment he opened his eyes and your heart broke again. Doing your best to reassure him that Sam was on his way, you cajoled Max into changing out of his dirty clothes and into fresh ones. 

He refused to eat the soup, but with soft insistence, you persuaded him to finish half a bowl of it. 

“You’ll read to me?” He said in a muted, dull voice as you tucked him back in the bed.

“Of course, sweetheart, what do you want me to read?”

“Anything.”

You looked around the room, your eyes landing on the only book over his nightstand. 

“Alright, here we go.” You flipped to the page with a bookmark. _“We could not wait for Atticus to come home for dinner, but called and said we had a big surprise for him. He seemed surprised when he saw most of the back yard in the front yard, but he said we had done a jim-dandy job. “I didn’t know how you were going to do it,” he said to Jem, “but from now on I’ll never worry about what’ll become of you, son, you’ll always have an idea…”_

* * *

It was stupid and incredibly irresponsible on Sam’s part to let his phone drain out completely. Even worse, he’d left it to charge in the meeting room and forgotten to check it in the next couple of hours while he met with the children in the boy’s home. He came back to 17 missed calls and 23 text messages- from Alex and Y/N. 

Max was sick and he’d had no idea.

Sam had frantically called first thing after going through the texts. Y/N had picked up only to whisper that Max was better and asleep, and that Sam needn’t worry. For the next five hours, Sam worried ceaselessly anyway. It drove Chase up the wall, but he played his music loudly in the car all the way till Sam dropped him off and didn’t point out how Sam was a total maniac. 

The clock on his dashboard blinked 1:22 as he made the bend to his house.

Sam parked the car all wrong in the driveway, barely giving it a second thought before running inside. He should’ve been quieter, knowing Max was asleep, but the anxiety barely kept his legs moving. He would have continued at the same rate through Max’s door if the scene before him hadn’t made him stop.

On the bed, Max was sleeping peacefully. He was dressed in a thin cotton t-shirt, the lower half of his body was covered in his blanket. That wasn’t what made Sam stop. Y/N was curled up beside him, her arm thrown around Max, who was nextled so comfortably in her embrace that he belonged there. Max’s book was balanced over Y/N’s hip, wedged open on the page she had been reading out of. On the nightstand, stood a bowl of cold soup, half empty, along with water and strips of medicine. The table on Y/N’s side held a cooking pot filled with water and a washcloth lay dipped in it. She’d been nursing him- from fever or the sweat, Sam couldn’t say.

Slowly, he walked up to Max, and very very carefully placed the back of his hand on his forehead. No fever. 

Sam looked about himself. The floor was strewn with Max’s clothes that smelled like he had been sick over them. Sam picked up the clothes and carried them to the washing machine. Inside was already a dry load of clothes that belonged to Y/N and him. So Max had thrown up on her. More than once.

Sam knew from the messages that Y/N had taken Max to the hospital- had her friend, whom she trusted implicitly take a look at his son, signed the papers as his guardian and paid the bill out of her pocket.

The thought occurred to Sam as he undressed for the night. In that last message, Y/N had apologised for signing off on Sam’s behalf, as if he could ever be mad at her for dropping whatever she was doing to look after his son, the way a mother would.

Sam understood now _why_ Max had thrown a fit when Sam had forbidden him from seeing Y/N. It had hurt Sam that he couldn’t be enough for Max, that Max was looking for something more in Y/N. But seeing them together now, Sam could see he had been completely wrong. Max wasn’t asking something more, he’d been asking for what already belonged to him- Y/N’s love. Max had been right all along.

Sam pulled the covers and duvet off his bed and dragged to Max’s room where he laid them out at the foot of Max’s bed, so he’d be sleeping next to him on the floor. An alarm started going off on Y/N’s phone, and Sam jumped to turn it off. It was already 2 O’ clock. She had set successive alarms for every hour of the night, Sam presumed to check on Max. Sam turned off all of them. He was home now, he could take care of it. 

He checked Max’s temperature once more- still normal- and then bent down to place a kiss on his forehead. It was almost November. Max always had bouts of viral or flu in the cold months. He should have foreseen it. If Y/N hadn’t been around…

The expression on her face was so peaceful as she held onto his boy, tears sprang into Sam’s eyes. This was everything he wanted in his life. Everything. Right in front of him. He bent down once more and planted a soft kiss on her cheek. She didn’t wake at his touch, but adjusted herself closer to Max on the tiny bed, the book falling off her hip with a soft thud onto the thick carpet. 

Sam lay down on the floor, thinking of a night very long ago when Y/N had fallen asleep on the sofa in his house, back in Lawrence. He’d read to her from this very book that night- for the first time. Sam had slept besides her on the floor that night as well. A writer would have called the parallel poetic… but Sam saw it for what it was, shrouded in a mist of uncertainty all around him- a haunting ache inside his soul.

He couldn’t thank her for what she’d done for his Max today- not only would that gesture be insufficient, it would be insulting. No, Sam wouldn’t thank her. Instead, he would check up on Max every hour, make her breakfast in bed, and iron her clothes before she woke up, so she wouldn’t be late for classes tomorrow. He would pack her a lunch and kiss her goodbye at the door. Maybe she would see through him and understand how incredibly grateful he was for today… and how tragically hopeful he was for the future, when he could do these simple things everyday without the excuse of an unsaid thank you.

“I love you, Darling,” he whispered. “It can only ever be you.”


	41. Chapter 41

“I’m telling you, Y/N, we have to visit that boutique. All you need is some nice manicure and pedicure. You’ll be sorted for the month. Evil shall not touch you.”

“Because of a pedicure?” You eyed Madison skeptically.

“Yes.” She dead-panned. Madison jerked her chin up in the air. “Do _not_ underestimate the power of a good pedicure.”

You had never had one in your life and your feet looked alright to you. Secretly, you believed a pumice stone did as much as a $150 pedicure, but you weren’t going to tell Madison that. She was trying so hard to lift your spirits. 

They were better today, now that Max was back to his bouncy self. Sam had taken all of yesterday off to be with him and by the time you had gone over after classes, Max seemed pretty upbeat, despite a slight sore throat. The fever hadn’t been back, nor had the scary vomiting phase. Sam hadn’t said a word the next morning. As if it was completely natural for you to have stayed over. Instead, when you woke up the following morning, your clothes were ready, breakfast, coffee and a packed lunch was already waiting for you- exactly the way you liked all of those things. Sam hadn’t forgotten. He’d promised you a decent lunch if you made it back in time. You might as well have _lived_ at his house.

The worry for Max had barely let you concentrate on classes, let alone on the whispers and glances that might’ve made their way to you yesterday. Only when the boy had opened the door and hugged you around your waist had you felt like yourself again. Max had been grouchy, but he was putting together a 500 piece puzzle and the day before had been completely forgotten. 

But you couldn’t forget the panic, the fear and most of all the absolute bliss of waking up with Max cuddled in your arms- a dream come true.

“Y/N! Are you even listening to me?” Madison looked annoyed.

You smiled guiltily. “I’m sorry… my mind’s just in too many places right now.”

“I have two words for you. Pedi. Cure.”

“That’s one word.”

“Oh, shut up!” Madison rolled your eyes, making you giggle.

“You know what you should be doing, instead? Unpacking those boxes in your bedroom.” 

Madison did not appreciate the reminder. “Come on, Y/N. Is it such a bad idea to pamper yourself?”

You thought over it. “Maybe I could use a haircut.”

Madison clapped her hands. “Perfect! Haircut then!”

Her enthusiasm made you wonder if she was stress pampering herself over the move. You had introduced her to all of your building friends last night. They all regarded her with the curiosity of someone alien- politely but carefully. Madison exuded richness- from her Louis Vuitton shoes to her Prada purse. No one in your group had grown up with such wealth. They were naturally intimidated and wary. Madison in turn was freaked out by being thrust into a group of people who were already very close knit. Kevin had bitched at length about how he wouldn’t be able to hang out on your sofa with the ‘new’ girl there, but you had reassured him repeatedly that Maddie would never mind. Despite the obvious differences, they all had one thing in common with each other- they were all good people.

Even though it was a Saturday, Professor Wilkins had been adamant about taking a class today, no wonder most of the people were grumpy or hungover or both. Madison all but dragged you out of the desk cheerfully when the lecture ended, only for the way to be blocked by Seth Kennley. You had always liked Seth well enough- he was happy go lucky, ready to jump into anything even remotely exciting. Of course, with everything that was happening, you didn’t know where you stood with him or anyone else in the class anymore.

Seth awkwardly cleared his throat, not looking at you.

When you tried to cut across him, he moved to block your path again. “Uhh, Y/N… There’s something that I… No, we want to tell you.”

You noticed other other people standing behind him- Sarah, Jacob, Paxton, Richa and a couple more. 

You stared blankly at him, waiting for him to continue.

Seth cleared his throat again. Instead of saying anything, he thrust a folded bunch of papers in your hand, flustered.

“What’s this?” You asked, without opening it, not wanting to be the butt of a cruel joke.

“It’s a photocopy of the letter signed by 174 of us in the class,” said Sarah in a quiet voice. “It says, we as a class, do not believe that Professor Winchester was biased towards you in any instance or way in the class, that we acknowledge your grades are hard earned and well-deserved. It’s a request submitted to the committee looking into his enquiry, that we want him reinstated as our professor, irrespective of his relationship with you.”

“We know that you’re… that the two of you are married,” Seth added, emboldened by Sarah’s initiative. “We heard about the circumstances that lead to your estrangement. We are all so goddamned sorry for what you’ve been through, but also for even thinking that you could… you know… do such a thing. Most of us didn’t… I know I didn’t believe a word of the bullshit Rebecca or Brad said,” Seth defended quickly. “But this is on the behalf of the rest of us, who ever doubted you or Professor Winchester.”

You didn’t want to hear it, you didn’t want everyone peeping into your past or looking at you that way- with that pity. It was making your stomach roil.

Jacob stepped forward. “Look, your personal life is none of our concern. We just want a good professor back and to let you know that the rest of us don’t care.”

You nodded, not looking at any of them. “Take this.” You handed the copy of the letter back to Seth. “Thank you. For doing this- for Sam.”

Before anyone else could say another word, you rushed past them, trying to keep a focus on your vision. It made you feel naked, to have so many people know about your personal life. You understood that they were all coming from a good place, and this could make a world of difference to Sam’s enquiry… yet here you were gasping for breath.

“You alright?” Madison gently placed a hand against your shoulder. 

“Did you tell them?” You asked, heaving slightly.

“I didn’t have to. They’re all going to be lawyers someday. Digging to the root of things is going to be their profession. Turns out I wasn’t the only one who refused to believe such awful things about you.”

“Come,” she said, guiding you towards the gate. “Let’s get you that haircut.”

The hands massaging your scalp and washing the suds away felt heavenly. A strange energy had taken over Madison once she was inside the salon. Not only was she forcing you to get a haircut, manicure _and_ pedicure. Apparently, a facial and full body wax was also included now. You felt like every part of your body was being primed and polished. It felt wonderful.

As you lay with your eyes closed, with two pieces of cucumber on your eyelids, Madison hummed to herself what you suspected was a Britney Spears song. 

“Hey, Y/N, you remember that day when professor Winchester asked us to pick between sympathy and empathy?”

“Sure do.”

She laughed. “You slayed that argument, pulling out your compassion card out of nowhere.”

The memory made you smile. Sam had looked a tiny but smug at your answer. “What about it?”

“Why didn’t you add _pity_ to your list?”

You removed one slice of cucumber to peer at Madison. She was still lying there with her eyes closed.

“Because pity is completely different. You show pity towards those who you deem _inferior_ to you. It’s not a positive emotion, it’s borderline cruel.”

Madison mirrored your position by lifting one of her own cucumber slices and looking at you sideways. “No one in the class thinks of you as inferior. Most of them think you’re better. They look up to you. Don’t confuse their sympathy with pity, Y/N. You know they can’t empathize. None of them have lived your life… but they’re trying very, very hard to be compassionate. Let them. Nobody knows the difference between those four things better than you.”

You looked at her for a very long moment, feeling the warmth of her words drive away the remaining unease. “Thanks, Maddie!”

She beamed. “Yeah, I’m pretty awesome like that.”

Madison paid for the near spa treatment despite your violent protests, and then took you shopping with her of all things. You tagged along disgracefully into yet another expensive looking place. Shopping wasn’t your favourite activity- most of the clothes were flimsy and oh so pretty. The sort that would _never_ be visible under your sweaters. All you could do was look at those delicate blouses and sigh sadly for never being able to wear them. 

When Madison found you staring glumly at the ‘summer’ clothes, she dragged you to the other side of the shop. You expected to see fancy coats and sweaters… instead the racks were hung with very intricate lingerie.

“Madison Anne Maxwell, what the _hell?”_ Your eyes were popping out of their sockets. The items on sale made you want to look away, they were so outrageously sexy.

“Oh c’mon, you were the one destroying Rebecca over how hot the sex with Professor Winchester is!”

You felt your face heat up. “I was just trying to shut her up for good!”

“But were you lying?”

“Jesus Christ, Maddie, drop it!” You muttered, throwing your hands over your face. “You know I’m not actually sleeping with him, right?”

She laughed maniacally, clearly enjoying herself too much. “Consider this for possible future contingency.”

“I changed my mind. Get your boxes out of my apartment. I do not want to live with you!”

She ignored you completely, calling out to one of the employees. 

“This is my friend,” she told the shopper. “We’re looking for something _delicate_ she could wear.”

“Madison, we’re not buying this stuff,” you hissed in her ear, absolutely mortified. 

“You’re not buying it. I am getting them for you.” Your friend looked at you with such gloating, you had a dumb urge to flick your tongue at her. “Look, Y/N, this isn’t about him. This is about _you._ Everyone deserves sexy black lingerie.”

“No.” This along with the spa treatment was worth your entire month’s salary. “Absolutely not.”

She made those big eyes at you. “Please? Please? Let me do this for you. As a homecoming gift for my new roommate. You can bake for every day of the month in return.”

“This is ridiculous!” You moaned, but you were really losing the battle, and Madison could see that.

As it turned out, you didn’t just lose the battle, but the following war, forfeited your cavalry and signed an embarrassing armistice. It was abundantly clear as you walked up the stairs of your apartment in a preposterously expensive dress, over designer lingerie, in new 3-inch pumps, looking like an Oscar winning stylist had done your hair and make-up. Five hours had been spent on this along with God knew how much money.

“Madison, I don’t know if anyone’s told you this before, but you’re _deranged.”_

Her laughter trilled ahead of you. “Worth it! You look gorgeous!”

Noises were coming from inside of your house as you knocked on the door. 

“This happens sometimes,” you smiled apologetically at your friend, considering that your house already had people inside without either of you being there. “The guys just like hanging out here. You’ll get adequate privacy, I swear.”

But Madison was grinning from ear to ear when the door opened.

Before your eyes could adjust to the colour, the furor or the confetti bang, there was a loud chorus. “Surprise!”

So many people you loved rushed forwards and you were pulled into hugs, passed around from one person to another- faces smiling down at you, voices laughing in your ears till one small set of arms found you.

“Happy birthday, Y/N!” Max said, eyes alight with excitement. 

You sat down on the floor next to him, still comprehending what was happening. Max reached out to kiss you cheek. 

“C’mon, don’t y’all crowd over the birthday girl,” Ordered Meg. “Everyone three steps back. Kevin, for Christ’s sake leave the cake alone.”

Still keeping a firm grip on Max’s hand, you looked around you, at the faces- Meg, Madison, Jack, Kevin, Cas and Pam. Next to Jack, stood Claire with Alex and Jody. By the balcony, there was Chase and Molly and right in front of you, though at the far end of the room, stood Sam, a light smile playing on his lips.

“You did this?” The words were a whisper. No one else knew the day for what it meant. You yourself had completely forgotten about it. The date, 27th October, for so long had only been one of the other 365 that made up a year. 

Sam shrugged. “You were the one who said I’ve never met your friends.”

You couldn’t start crying now, not when everyone was so happy around you. Kevin brought the cake and placed it on the small table in front of you- a basic, rectangular chocolate cake with ‘H-A-P-P-Y B-D-A-Y Y/N’ spelt out in skittles on top. The whole house was covered in tassels, crepe paper streamers and balloons. The banner hanging over the balcony proudly read, _“Welcome to the dark side of the twenties.”_

“Okay, Kev and I baked the cake, so it’s probably awful.” Jack shook his head. “But Max here saved it with the decoration.”

“The hardest worker has to be Maddie!” said Kevin. “It was her job to keep you engaged till we put up the decorations. Meg painted the banner and Cas cooked. So… uh… good luck with that, as well. We sincerely hope everyone lives to see tomorrow.”

“Don’t forget Sam,” Meg smirked. “None of y’all are tall enough to hang the decorations.”

“What are you waiting for?” Max enthused. “Make a wish and blow out the candle.” 

You looked at the little boy in your arms and then the man standing before you as you closed your eyes. 

_Family. I want my family back._

You blew hard on the candle. Cheers erupted.

Before you could open your eyes, you felt two hands cover them from behind- soft and warm. The fingers were long and delicate, shaking slightly, the tell-tale weight of a ring pressed against the top of your cheekbone. 

“I- I don’t want to guess,” you whispered in a broken voice, violently crushing down the bubbling hope. “I can’t.”

You felt hot breath against your ear, and a light push against the back of your head as a voice mumbled in your ear, thick and broken, as well. “Happy birthday, Y/N/N.”

You started sobbing. Catching hold of the hands on your eyes, you slowly pulled down the person behind you to your level. She threw her hands around you first, breaking down completely. 

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking, Y/N?” Jo blubbered. “What the actual fuck were you thinking never coming back!”

She could be angry, she could slap you and you wouldn’t care. You were so happy, the world could have gone up in flames and you wouldn’t have noticed. This wasn’t the sort of happiness that could be contained… any moment now you could be disintegrated from trying to feel this emotion and it would be worth it.

You pushed her back. “Let me just look at you for a moment.” Jo’s nose was shiny and her cheeks were blotchy. Her eyes were red and swollen, too. You realised she’d been crying for a while. “This is what it feels like to truly breathe.”

“Quit being all poetic on me, bitch!” Jo wiped her nose messily. “I could strangle you right now.” But she was laughing. Even through the tears, her joy was breaking through.

“Oh, screw you!” You laughed, too. “This isn’t about you. This is about the most beautiful niece in the world.” You trailed one hand away from Jo’s cheek to her round belly. “Look at you. Your aunt loves you so much already.”

“Don’t let your aunt sweet talk you into anything,” Jo said, looking down. “She has a lot of shit to answer for.”

“Jo, this is incredible!” It really was. Your cheeks were hurting from grinning so much. “You’re having a little girl!”

She nodded, pulling your other hand down as well, so they were both cradling her stomach. “Meet, Mary Y/N Winchester.”

Your heart was already bursting at its seams. Words completely abandoned you now. 

“Oh, stop with the crying!” Said Dean, coming from behind. You hadn’t seen him standing there. Of course, he was. He kissed you on the top of your, wishing you a very happy birthday.

You didn’t miss his hand, tightening on Jo’s shoulder, urging her that it was okay, without actually saying it out loud. They really were married now- not just making out in bars and playing footsie under the table. Unbelievable.

Someone sniffed, and you realised that everyone had gone uncannily quiet. Kevin and Jack were definitely crying, so were Molly and Madison. You even sneaked Meg trying to furtively wipe a tear. 

Sam’s face was fraught with an intensity, but you couldn’t quite pinpoint one emotion on it.

“C’mon, cut the cake,” Jo urged. “You’re ruining the expensive make-up and everyone’s giving me a weird look.”

You beckoned Max back towards you, and offered the plastic knife to him. Then, covered his hand with yours and cut the cake. Loud cheers went up in the air again.

**********

“I’ve met five drinks Y/N. She wanted to get on top of the bar.” Pam looked at Sam. “Ain’t that right?”

He bit his lip to keep the laughter from spilling.

“I can top that,” Jo raised her hand proudly. “Seven drinks Y/N gave me a strip show on top of my mother’s stairs.”

“You never told me that!” You protested. At least, all the clothes lying around the house the next day made sense.

You hadn’t let go of Jo’s hands all the while, sneaking glances at her when you thought she wasn’t looking, only to be caught in the act because she was doing the same. It felt unreal. You were scared that if you let go of her, she might just disappear. 

There were other things you noticed- how Dean and Jo tried to spoil Max rotten. Nothing he asked from them was ever answered with a no- whether it was an extra piece of cake, or a ride around the town. And Sam would hover over them with hawk’s eyes, swooping Max away from anything exorbitant that they tried to pile on him. The case in question today was about an expensive tent they had brought for Max, which Sam was resisting with all his might. Max already had a tent in his room and did not need a new one. At least, that’s what Sam maintained. You believed Max did want to keep the tent, but at the same time he would never go beyond Sam’s words and admit to wanting it. 

Jo was giving Sam a stink eye over not budging. Dean was secretly plotting to leave the setup in Sam’s basement anyway. What was he going to do? Drive to Lawrence just to return it?

You memorised their every interaction greedily… not wanting to miss a moment of it. 

After the roast Y/N session was over, everyone dispersed around the house in twos and threes. The food- which actually tasted good- was set up on the kitchen counter. Jack had opened the Jenga again and was trying to impress Claire and Alex with it in your room. Pam had set up an alcohol counter in what was now Madison’s room- your own personal bartender, handing out excellent drinks. You had seen Kevin whisk Madison towards the temporary bar, trying to convince her on how it would rain next week and that she should totally side with him on the weekly bet. They were followed by Chase and Molly soon after. 

Dean had taken Max out for a ride and Sam was leaning against the kitchen counter chatting animatedly with Jody. 

That left you and Jo on the sofa. 

You were content to simply keep looking at her, having believed for a very long time that you’d never get to see her again.

“That boy,” she said, looking at Sam. “I think he loves you, Y/N.”

You snorted. “You’re seven years too late to tell me that.”

She shook her head. “Not the normal kind of love- the sort that fades away over time. This is something else. He never got over you. It nearly destroyed him, and even though he knew exactly what holding on to you was doing to him, he never let go.”

You sighed. “I’d be lying if I said I wish he’d moved on.”

“I know. Dean told me you were still undecided. It’s still your call to make, of course. I just can’t help but wish for his sake that you choose to go back.”

Raising an eyebrow, you regarded her. “For his sake and not mine?”

Jo scoffed. “You’re a fighter, Y/N. Always have been. Sam’s an idiot. I haven’t seen him smile like this in years. Now that he’s tasted what life could be like with you, there’s no going back for him. I know you… I know you’ll keep the hopes and dreams at bay till you’re absolutely certain of what you want to do. That boy? He’s already dreaming that future, already planning his life, even if he denies it out front.”

“Dean said you never wanted him to get out there and start dating again.”

“Of course I didn’t,” Jo shot back. “Why on earth would I want him to go looking for someone else? Especially after he found Max. No one else can love that kid like you can- someone who understands his importance. It was selfish of me to hope he wouldn’t give up. But it did pay off.”

You weren’t sure if it _had_ paid off.

“When did Dean tell you?”

She knitted her eyebrows. “After he came back from seeing you. I wanted to drop everything, come out here and dropkick you into the orbit of neptune, but Dean said I needed to calm down first.”

Jo punched you lightly in the side. “Sam called a few days later, suggesting that we could drive over for your birthday. Which was like a week away, so I decided to stay put.”

“This is the best birthday ever.”

“You remember that stupid party we had in Lawrence for our average birthday?”

You snorted. “You ditched me to go make out with the bad boy Dean Winchester.”

“That’s how you met Sam. So quit bitching,” Jo smirked. “You were so obsessed with him before you’d even met him! Begging me to hook you up with the cool lawyer from Stanford! I was scared I might have to deal with a poster of him over our beds.”

“Fuck you!”

Jo laughed. “Look how it all turned out.” She took your hand. “I remember looking for you that night and finding you on a park bench with Sam. I swear to God, Y/N, I just knew there was something there.”

“Mhmm.” Your eyes found Sam, still laughing with Jody, one hand casually tucked in his pocket, the other one running through his hair. He caught your eye and a slow flush creeped up his cheeks.

So much had changed since then… and yet, nothing had changed at all.

**********

The gifts were all lovely. Jack and Kevin had bought you a tiny, portable space heater. The draft was particularly bad in winter and they thought you could use it. Cas and Meg had gifted an antique shelf for you books, which rotated on an axis. Then, a set of printed mittens from Alex and Clare, a cashmere cardigan from Jody, and two books of your favourite artist from Molly. Pam, not letting you forget that one time, gifted you a bottle of tequila. 

Madison, exasperatingly, had the audacity to apologise for not getting you a gift after the outrageous splurge of the day. She’d handed you a gavel shaped rosewood keychain on Meredith’s behalf. Apparently, Meredith liked you enough to buy you a gift but still wasn’t interested in a crowd. The other outrageous splurge was Chase’s gift- a stunning necklace. The chain was silver and very thin, at the end hung a small crystal shaped like a typical diamond in elevation. Very elegant.

“Not gilded in diamonds,” he’d winked at Sam as he clasped the catch behind your neck. “But you’re definitely priceless, Y/N.”

Dean and Jo hadn’t gone all out. Their gift was simple and something only they could’ve given you- a box full of your old stuff. Your books, dairies, clothes- little souvenirs from your grandmother’s house that Jo had preserved carefully. Not a crease in the clothes, not a fold in the papers. The box held so many memories- Jo’s little dress that she’d lent you for the average birthday, Dean’s lighter from all those years ago, a photo frame with your wedding picture and the tiara from your bachelorette party. So many other little things. So invaluable.

But the gift that had touched your heart the most was simpler still. A handmade card, shaped like a cookie and coloured like one- neatly in crayon colours. On top were little brown dots for choco-chips. Inside, in a scrawny handwriting was a note: 

_Happy birthday, Y/N!_

_I love you more than your cookies and I love the cookies a lot._

_\- Max Dean Winchester._

It was overwhelming to imagine little Max labouring over it late in the evening, colouring ferociously with his small hands, using safety scissors to cut the perfect circle of the card.

You tucked it away safely in between your copy of _To kill a mockingbird._ Your two most prized possessions.

Everyone was, at least, tipsy by the end of the party, others more than drunk as they stumbled off one by one, giggling and laughing. It hadn’t taken more than a word to convince Jo to stay. She would be staying with you tonight while Dean was heading back at Sam’s. He looked a bit crestfallen about leaving Jo. It was adorable. You watched him sneak a kiss and then bend down to place another on her belly before walking out the door. Watching them, you felt nothing but the purest of joy, not even a blip of longing or something else. 

You were tempted to ask Sam to allow Max to stay over as well, confident that you could look after him, then decided not to push your luck. Besides, you were looking forward to a night with Jo, sitting on the balcony and staring at the sky. You were ready for her anger, the tears and laughter that would follow, finally getting to spend a night with your original roommate. How you had missed her. 

Sam lingered at the door long after Dean had left with Max on his shoulders. He was talking to a very flustered Madison. She’d laughed a lot today, excited to be amidst people who were genuinely fun and liked her the way she was supposed to be liked. From the rosy tint of her cheeks, you guessed she was past the tipsy point.

“Night, professor,” she said once she saw you heading in their way.

“Night.” Sam scratched the back of his neck. “Uh, Sam will do just fine outside of class.”

“Alright. Night, Sam.” She stumbled a bit on her way back, and mouthed to you, “Show him the French lingerie.” Except Madison was drunk, and what she thought was mouthing, was more of a stage whisper. A _loud_ stage whisper.

“What did she just say?” Sam narrowed his eyes.

“French lingerie. She asked me to show you my expensive French lingerie.”

“Well, happy birthday to me then!”

You giggled, shoving lightly against his shoulder. “You never even wished me!”

He bent down and placed a kiss behind your ear. “Happy birthday.” Then on the other side. “Happy birthday.” and finally grabbed you by your waist and kissed you full on the mouth, murmuring against your lips. “A very happy birthday, darling.”

You sighed, kissing him some more. “A girl could get used to this.”

“You _should_ be used to this,” he said, pushing you back slightly. “Which reminds me. Why did you look so shocked when you came through the door? Not just surprised, you looked like-”

“I’d forgotten it was my birthday? Cause I had.”

“Y/N…” He shook his head. “What’re we going to do with you?”

“I’d had no reason to remember it in the past years, no one to celebrate it with.”

His eyes were sad. “We have a bit of that in common.”

The realisation hit you on the head- Sam’s baby had died a week before his birthday and two days before, his wife had left him. His birthday must have felt like an yearly, inescapable mourning to him. Yet, here he was celebrating yours. On the last birthday that had been celebrated, Sam had proposed.

“I don’t have a gift,” he said, quietly. “Couldn’t find anything good enough for you.”

You looked into his eyes- a galaxy like no other- full of love, trust and wonder. But there was more to them- kindness and compassion. These very eyes had looked down at you at the altar and stared up in shock in a classroom full of strangers. You had barely been a person that day- locked away from your emotions in a bubble of indifference for so long. His eyes had revived you. The universe in them had returned your soul back to you.

You reached up on the tips of your toes and slowly kissed his eyelids one by one. “You did. It was the best gift of them all.”


	42. Chapter 42

Monday morning came with a pit in your stomach. Your head felt disconnected from your body as you made it to the Dean’s office, where they were holding the enquiry. Sam sat in front of the double doors, dressed as sharply as always, his glasses resting on the bridge of the nose while he intently read through the papers in his lap. Sam did not look up when you walked in, too engrossed to notice. You read over his shoulders. He was going through the case files for a legal acquisition for Acton Gris.

“Sam?”

He looked up, startled. 

“Hey.” He gave you a small smile as you sat down next to him.

Sam didn’t appear rattled in the least, just focused- eyes tightened infinitesimally at the corners.

You offered him your hand. Sam took it without hesitation, pulling you down on the chair besides his. You sat there with him, measuring your breaths, trying to pace them with his, as he read through the rest of his papers. An hour later, the Dean’s secretary called Sam in. 

He rose swiftly, gave your hand a tight squeeze and said, “Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay.”

You tried to nod, but didn’t think your chin actually moved. He gave you another reassuring smile, picked up his case and stepped behind the double doors. After about five minutes, you saw the rest of the faculty follow in- some still gave you a curious look. Only Jody winked at you encouragingly.

The wait was long. You barely did anything except stare at the doors, the tiny mouldings of the cornices and the pointings between the exposed sandstone bricks, trying to find patterns in them that weren’t there.

The first lecture for the day must have ended because Madison found you on the seating, so did many others from the class. No one spoke, just stood by the side, waiting for the doors to open, for the committee to come to a decision. You’d been told that the class was ready to protest if they decided to suspend Sam permanently.

Sam had told you over and over that it would be fine. That he wasn’t worrying. You didn’t believe him because you knew Sam would push down any actual panic he felt to assuage your fears. The only person who had managed to reassure you was Jody. She was confident that it was a mere formality and yet here you were worrying nevertheless.

To take your mind off the continuous panic, you thought about the things that were definitely happening irrespective of what was going on inside- like your promise of visiting Lawrence for Thanksgiving. They were expecting a Christmas baby, so you had vowed to spend the vacation with your family. Both Sam and you were committed to being there for Dean and Jo during that time. Would it be painful to go back to Lawrence? Yes. Were you willing to push that down for your sister and Dean? Also yes. Aunt El would be there. You would get to hug her and tell her how much you had missed her.

The double doors opened and you jumped out of your chair immediately. The Law faculty all walked out- some talking to one another, others eyeing the gathered audience. Either way, their demeanor didn’t give away any idea of what had happened inside. You waited with baited breath till Sam came out, followed by Jody. One look at his face, made you plop back down in relief. It really was okay.

Sam was surprised to see the rest of the freshman class in the lobby. 

“You guys are ditching class for me?” He laughed lightly. “That’s… well, that’s a surprise.”

“Back to class, folks,” Jody ordered. “Winchester’s not going to go easy on you for the semester just because you rallied for him.”

There was a loud cheer and a couple more hoots from the by-standing crowd. As for you, all you could do was simply drink in Sam’s smile- bright, without a hint of a shadow. 

“Shut it, guys!” Madison announced. “Let’s get out.”

Slowly, the crowd dispersed. You didn’t pay attention to see if any of them gave you any looks. When the last of them had disappeared, and the corridor was completely empty, Sam crossed the distance between you in two long strides and pulled you into a hug. “I told you there was no reason to worry.”

Your legs seemed to be made out of a Jell-O. If Sam hadn’t been supporting your weight, you’d have crumpled to the floor. 

“How are we celebrating tonight?” He asked. “Something big and fancy?”

You shook your head against his chest. “I want to be home. Just the three of us.”

His lips pressed into your hair. “Okay. See you tonight. We’ll order in? I’ll tell you all about what happened in there, yeah?”

“No. I want to cook. I’ll go over early. Will you please let Alex know?”

“Of course, love.”

*********

Sam’s kitchen was as familiar to you as your own now. Max sat on the bar counter, working on his homework. English was easy enough, he asked for help in math. You worked leisurely, putting the pie in the oven while the chicken marinated. The menu was simple- roasted chicken and BLT sandwiches. 

When Sam got home from work, Max was helping you arrange the table mats. 

“That smells amazing,” Sam said, ruffling Max’s hair and kissing you on the corner of your mouth before ditching his case and coat on the sofa. You watched him wash his hands in the kitchen sink instead of heading up and then pull away the tie. You weren’t the only one, Max was staring after Sam, too, as he drew a plate and started piling food on it. You guessed, Sam didn’t have the luxury of coming home to a set table. He was a single dad. The first thing he did was probably start putting pans on the stove. 

The way Max’s jaw was hanging open slightly, made your face hot. He wasn’t used to seeing Sam display any sort of romantic affection towards anyone else, either.

“C’mon, I’m starving!” Sam said.

You hurried to put the sandwich and chicken on Max’s plate, then on yours.

“I swear to God, Y/N, no one can cook chicken like you do. No one.”

On your other side, Max nodded fervently, not even taking his eyes off the plate, shoveling food in his mouth. You wanted to keep looking at him… at _them_ as they hungrily scarfed down the first serving. You had barely touched your plate.

Sam told you about the hearing, as he’d promised. Everyone had agreed that you deserved all your grades in Civil Procedure. Your performance had been steady and exemplary in all other subjects as well. Jody testified that she knew about you from the start and stuck with Sam’s version of ‘need to know’ basis. As long as what was personal did not affect classes, your relationship was no one’s business. Then there was the matter of the estrangement. Someone on the committee had pointed out that Sam, in fact, had a reason to devalue your grades because the split hadn’t been amicable. The decision was unanimous- Sam would continue taking the classes but only Paul got to grade your paper.

“Paul would grade you so much higher than I ever did,” Sam said. “He always had a bone to pick with me when it came to you.”

“Really?” You asked mildly, playing with your food.

“Yeah. I suggested that Paul grade papers for the whole class from now on. I don’t want any part of it.”

The question must’ve been clear on your face. 

Sam sighed. “I don’t know if I feel equally about everyone in that classroom. There’s, at least, a couple of people I wanna punch and I don’t want to give them a reason to point fingers at you again.”

Max was following the conversation closely. You weren’t sure how much he actually understood, but Sam’s parenting logic was infallible- don’t lie, don’t hide. If it needed hiding from your child because it was shameful, it shouldn’t be done in the first place. 

The food was all finished before you were done with your piece of chicken. Smiling, you asked, “Who wants pie?”

“I do!” Max jumped up from his chair. “Let me get it.”

“Max, be careful,” Sam cautioned as Max ran to the kitchen counter. He grabbed the glass bowl and ran back with as much gusto. You saw it happen in slow motion- Max tripped over the hem of his jeans and the bowl in his hands came crashing down, breaking into several pieces, the pie splattering all across the floor.

“Jesus, Max!” Sam was out of his chair next minute, crouching down on the floor. “Are you okay?”

Max nodded, looking at the splattered pie in shock, his eyes filling up. “I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean to.”

“Of course you didn’t, sweetheart,” you said, going to sit by him on the floor. “It was an accident. I know that.”

“You spent all your afternoon…” he started sniffing before finishing the sentence. 

“And I’ll spend all of tomorrow’s baking you a new one.”

“Max, look at me,” Sam said in a definitive voice. Max raised his head, eyes full of remorse.

“It’s okay.” Sam put his hand on Max’s shoulder. “Things break. You’ll just have to be more careful next time because broken glass is vicious. You know that. Stay right here, I’ll get the mop and we’ll clean this together, okay?”

“Okay,” Max said in a small voice, the sniffing gone.

You remembered something Sam had told you- that Max’s instinct was to expect a hit after breaking something. Even now, after all this time. Sam was still trying to get Max to believe that nothing bad was going to happen. You’d noticed one other thing- Max said sorry a lot. For every little thing and even when it wasn’t his fault.

“Come here,” you beckoned to him, taking his hand. “It’s just a pie, Max. There can be hundreds and hundreds of them. But there’s only one you. Just this cute little nugget in front of me. So you’ll be careful while running, won’t you?”

“Yeah.” He looked at you. “You aren’t mad?”

“Of course not!”

“Is it because I’m your little Chirp?”

You froze, fingers sliding out of Max’s, hands abandoning the small body completely, his words echoing in your head… _little Chirp._

“I am, aren’t I?”

_Little Chirp._

“Y/N?” Max shook your hand… blankly, you turned to look at him. He must have called out your name more than a few times.

“Max, go upstairs and pack your bag for tomorrow.” You heard Sam’s voice but didn’t really look up, not even to see Max whine about being dismissed. 

“Careful near the glass,” Sam cautioned. “C’mon, up you go. Before I get to counting.”

“H-How does he know that _name?”_ Your eyes flashed to Sam’s. He was on the ground, cleaning the last of the mess. You hadn’t even noticed him come back with a mop. Max was nowhere to be seen.

Sam cleaned the mess in its entirety before replying. “You’ve called him that. A couple of times now.”

“Me?”

He nodded, not really looking at you. “Near the bay, when you thought he was too close to the water. And, at least, one other time, or so Max told me.”

You leaned against the table chair, not knowing what to say, what to feel. You had been calling him _that?_ And not even realising it?

“It’s getting late, do you want me to walk you home?” Sam asked.

You looked up at him. Something about his expression was off… and very wrong, like Sam was trying to hide his emotions, forcefully holding them within him. Then there was the other thing, never before had he asked you to leave his house. He waited for you to make that call.

“No, thank you, I can manage.”

One quick nod. “Let me, at least, walk you to the door.”

You picked your bag and scarf in a daze, and made your way to the front, Sam following you silently.

At the door, you turned, “I’ll see you tomorrow in class?”

“No. There’s things that I have to take care of at work.”

You nodded slowly, still trying to decipher the solidity of his eyes. 

“Y/N,” he asked, voice already defeated. “Will you answer something, truthfully?” He continued before you could say yes. “Would it be so bad to call Max, Chirp? Would it be so hard to think of him that way?”

You stood there speechless, unable to answer his question. Unable to say anything… the answer wasn’t a simple yes or no. It was convoluted, unclear and muddled in your own head, but you should be able to reassure him that you did think of Max _that_ way. The words just wouldn’t come out.

He looked away then. “Good night, Y/N.” 

“Night, Sam.”

It wasn’t followed by the usual ‘soon.’ Sam stood at the door till you had rounded the corner of his drive. And for the first time, his gaze, following you did not bring you comfort.

* * *

**4th September 2012**

The night was clear tonight, too clear. Sam wasn’t used to air this clean, or streets this empty. The hustle bustle of LA wasn’t exactly missed, but Sam felt the weight of the move. He had spent too much time trying to arrange the house right- where the sofa would go, where the bookshelves went. A popular Interior designer had done it all for him in his LA penthouse, all he had had to do was throw in a ton of money.

But in this house, they had all done it by themselves- he and Max. They had decided what colour to paint the walls, what trees to plant. The netted trampoline in the garden was out of place and a lady from the homeowners association had tried to make Sam remove it. She’d said it made the neighbourhood look ugly. Max loved jumping on it, so the trampoline stayed. She could drag Sam to the court over it. 

Dean and Jo had driven over to help him paint the walls and put the small house together. While his brother had fixed the civil work with snaps of his finger, Sam’s new sister-in-law had taught him how to cook- burgers, bacon, chicken, anything that wasn’t a salad, readymade Ramen or boiled eggs. Max had been wary of Jo at first, but she was such a happy presence, Max was skipping alongside her in no time. 

Once Max had gone off to bed, Dean had cracked open a bottle of vintage whiskey. It didn’t take long after that for Sam to drown himself in _her_ memories. At least, he had Jo with him this time, just as sad. Sam appreciated her stubbornness in the faith that one day Y/N would return. Somedays Jo carried that faith for the both of them.

After they had left, Sam fixed the place the way Y/N would have wanted it to be- book shelves in the living room, right next to the sofa. He put the pictures on the wall next to the staircase, all in line. The mantlepiece was a collection of little memories he and Max had collected- mittens from their first ever fair together. Tickets from the first ever movie Max had seen in a theatre and the hats from Max’s first birthday to ever be celebrated. Then there was a jar- they would put a dollar in it for each day they felt happy. When the Jar filled up, they were supposed to go to Disneyland. 

Sam put back all the things in this home that he’d removed from his life- including Y/N’s picture in the drawer by his bed. Max brought that very picture to him now as he sat on the porch. 

“Who’s this?” Max asked, thrusting the frame in Sam’s hand.

His heart dropped. 

“That’s… that’s my wife,” he told the boy who was now his son.

“Where is she?”

“I don’t know. She… well, she left me.”

“Like Kathy?”

“No!” Sam gasped, horrified. “Not like Kathy. Y/N wasn’t anything like Kathy.” 

Sam hadn’t purposely asked Max to not call Kathy ‘mom.’ Either he’d picked it up from Sam, or hadn’t been in much of a habit of calling her mom to begin with. The psychologist had encouraged Max’s natural dissociation from his birth parents, especially since he had found a new family and home in Sam. 

“Then why?” Max frowned. Sam knew he’d have to answer that question more fully and several times over the years, with varying levels of honesty. Today, he answered it more honestly than he ever would.

“I don’t know.”

Max blinked his eyes a couple of times. “Will she come back?”

“I hope so.” Hopeless honesty again, but there was only so much he could do to curb the yearning he felt. Here was somebody who was asking Sam the questions that everyone dreaded to ask, and was willing to listen to his answers. This little boy was Sam’s for now and ever. The last six months with him had done more to heal Sam than anything else. He felt a lot more like himself- sad, but that incessant anger, reckless harshness was doused. More importantly, along with his own self, Sam had his brother back.

Max snuggled a bit closer to him in the chill and Sam put his arm around the boy.

“You scared about tomorrow?” Sam asked and Max nodded against his side.

“I don’t wanna go.”

Running his fingers through Max’s curls, Sam said, “It’s school. There’ll be little kids like you in there. It’ll be good for you.”

Max’s voice was small. “What if they don’t like me?” 

Sam himself was terrified that the kids would be mean to Max. He was all for home-schooling Max for a few years, but Dean had insisted that isolating him would be no good. He needed to get out there and learn to face the world. Sam couldn’t protect him forever, he needed to learn to fight for himself. 

Listening to Max’s doubts, Sam wanted nothing more than to hide him from the world. 

“Tell you what? I’m scared about tomorrow as well. I don’t know the people at my new office.” It wasn’t just Max’s first day school, it was Sam’s first day at Acton Griswold, too. “I don’t know if they’ll like me.”

“Everyone likes you!” Max said. 

“Do you like me?”

“I _love_ you.” He enunciated each word. Sam would never tire of hearing his son say those three words.

“And that’s enough for me,” he said. “Those little kids don’t know you yet. You’re new there. If they don’t outright like you, just remember that _I_ love you, okay? You’re the smartest, kindest person I know. Soon, everyone will see that.”

Max sat quietly, digesting the words.

“Dad? He said after a while.

“Hmm?”

“I think Y/N will come back.”

He turned his body to look at Max, who had a determined expression. “You’re the smartest, kindest person I know,” Max repeated his words. “She’ll see that.”

Sam pulled Max tight into his chest. It was an impossibility- the idea of Y/N coming back to him. Sam knew that. He wasn’t a dreamer- not anymore. And yet, holding on to his boy, a dream started to take shape in his mind, one of his family. Where Max was completely healed of his scars and his fears. Where Y/N was with him again, with _them,_ loving Max like her own son. They would laze around in parks on Sundays and go trick-or-treating for Halloween. Do everything a family was supposed to do.

Sometimes dreams are what lets one live on. 

* * *

“Hey, boss!” Chase flopped down on the sofa in Sam’s cabin. “You called?”

“Yeah,” Sam said, barely managing to keep his voice under control. It was on the verge of breaking. _He_ was on the verge of splintering. “There’s something I need you to do.”

“Shoot!” Then he faltered. “But not today. I managed to score a date with Y/N’s new roommate at the birthday party, and I think this really, _really_ might work.” His eyes were sparkling. 

Chase waited for Sam’s reaction- encouragement or protest. Neither of which came.

“Tomorrow is fine.”

Chase sat up, eyes sharpening. “What do you need?”

“I-” Sam cleared his throat. The words were choking him on their way out. “Will you _please_ draft my divorce papers?” _Please save me from having to do this myself._

“You’re taking up a divorce case? You’ve never done that before… Is this the Thornton-Cruz separation? Cause that’s some hot bubbling lava you don’t want to touch. Splitting the liquid assets alone-”

“Chase, you’re not listening to me.” Sam could not look up to meet Chase’s eyes. He would know. He always knew.

Sam saw Chase get up from the sofa, saw his feet walk right up to his desk. “When you say my divorce, you mean…”

“Papers for my divorce with Y/N.” He said, staring hard at the desk. “Cite the reason as irreconcilable differences.”

There was a long pause.

“Sam, you’ve got to be shitting me.”

He looked up, right into Chase’s furious green eyes. “I’m dead serious.”

“Why?” Chase hissed. “You were okay yesterday. What the fuck could have gone down in one day?”

“I can’t do it… I can’t do this to Max,” Sam whispered, putting his head in his hands. “He’s so attached to her, his day starts and ends with her name and he is so sure she’ll end up accepting him. What if she doesn’t?”

“Sam,” said Chase through gritted teeth. “I don’t know if you remember this, but she fucking jumped into water to save Max. Not caring what would have happened to her. How can you question her love after that?”

Chase didn’t see it the way Sam did. Even though Y/N hadn’t said it, Sam knew she loved Max- loved him more than her own life. This very love had blinded him for so long, made him hope that eventually she’d accept his boy completely. But loving Max, and loving him like her own son were two different things. If the mere thought of calling him Chirp was unacceptable to her, could she ever let go of that trauma? If Max was always going to come second to the memory of their lost baby, how was it any fair to Max? He would never get _all_ of her love, just a little less… a lot less than what he would deserve.

It all boiled down to one thing- Whether Sam was selfish enough to put his own happiness over and above the love Max deserved? He would have to spend the rest of his life knowing that Y/N was settling for Max. That he was never her first choice, but an obligation in some tiny corner of her mind. 

It wasn’t about a name. Sam understood the pain attached to that name _very_ well. It was her reaction to it that had set him off. Max had been shaking her, pleading for her to acknowledge him and she hadn’t even responded, not paid any attention to him. Her eyes had been blank, an echo of the look from the hospital. And Max’s? They had been brimming with hope and yearning. Sam had been living in the wonderful bliss of ignorance and last night had been a horrifying wake up call. No, Sam couldn’t live with hurting his boy like that.

“Will you draft the papers or not?”

“No,” Yelled Chase. Loud enough to startle Stacey outside the door. “And I’m not letting you do this either. Not to you and not to her! Have you thought about what this would do to Y/N? Max… God… that poor kid. Think about him!”

“I AM thinking about him!” Sam snarled. His vision was starting to blur. “My decision is final.”

Chase slammed both his hands on the desk. “Then fucking do it yourself! I don’t want anything to do with this… this _monstrosity!”_ He stormed out of the cabin.

Stacey gave Sam a pinched look, but did not otherwise intrude. 

He opened his laptop, every cell in his body screaming in protest as he pulled out the format for Divorce applications. This was wrong- it felt wrong. And maybe in another reality where he hadn’t found Max, he wouldn’t have even thought of something this extreme, but each day that Max spent with Y/N he believed more and more that she would be his mom one day. He couldn’t put Max through a heartbreak like that, if, after another six months Y/N decided she didn’t want to be a part of his family.

_Have you thought about what this would do to Y/N?_

Chase’s words made his fingers falter on the keys. Was he thinking about Y/N? He’d promised her as much time as she needed, and now he was taking that away from her. But the Sam who had made her that promise was a selfish guy, clinging to his love obstinately, arrogant in his belief that she loved him, too. The Sam who was typing these papers was a dad before anything else. 

In a way he wasn’t even breaking his word. Sam knew, as he had promised- he would always love her. Always. Neither was he going to fling the papers in Y/N’s face. She’d have time to go through them and the choice would still be hers. Maybe she was hesitating at the threshold of her decision. Seeing the papers might push her to make the call she was so scared of making- breaking all their hearts.

Sam had been kidding himself these past couple of months, living in denial. He never had a choice. Only she did. Sam’s choice was made the day he’d clutched the brown hands of that little boy.


	43. Chapter 43

The crack in the ceiling was wider than you thought it would be, staring at you from up there, like a river and its rivulets, but disconnected from the source, dried up before reaching the sea that was its destination. Just aimlessly stuck in the middle.

There was an urgent knock on the door. Wiping your eyes, you called, “yeah.”

Madison poked her head through the door. “Can I come in?”

“Umm yeah, sure.”

You sat up in the bed.

Madison came to sit by you on the mattress. You didn’t look up at her, afraid she would see your swollen eyes. 

“I know you don’t like to share your problems with anyone,” said Madison. “But I’m here. Just in case you want to talk about what’s hurting you. I haven’t seen you out and about in a while, Y/N.”

Her voice was gentle. 

“I can’t tell you what’s wrong because I don’t know what it is myself.” 

“Is it about Sam?”

“It is and it isn’t.” Choosing not to elaborate, you drew into yourself against the headrest. This wasn’t about Sam. This was about you being unable to understand your own damn mind and it was hurting Sam- so much. The muteness of his eyes was haunting you… and then there was Max- the sweetest little soul in this world. Every time you thought about him, you wanted to all but break down. What was _wrong_ with you? Because something had to be wrong if you couldn’t accept that boy with all your heart. 

You didn’t deserve to be a mother. This was why you could never be one.

“Come down for a bit,” said Madison, tone sympathetic. “All the guys are downstairs at Pam’s. She said something about ‘welcome to the apartment’ free pizza ritual.”

“You go on. I don’t feel like it.”

She looked like she wanted to insist, then decided against it. “If you change your mind, don’t forget your sweater. It’s a chilly evening.”

After Madison left, you couldn’t bear to lay in the bed. The crack in the ceiling was twisting your heart. Outside, the sky was darkening quickly, earlier than it should have.

Walking into the kitchen, you filled the coffee pot with water. Just as you were about to place it onto the machine, the doorbell rang. You knew in your gut who it was, just the way one knows what’s coming when the sea starts to recede.

Sam looked distraught. Gone was the carefully concealed blank look from the day before. Today, he had abandoned all attempts to hide his emotions. He wasn’t dressed for work either. Just jeans and plaid, with a bunch of papers rolled in his hands. 

Without a word you stepped aside to let him in. Sam sat down on the sofa, looking about himself as if hoping that someone or something would save him from what was about to happen. Again, you simply knew.

“I messed up bigtime, didn’t I?” You whispered, taking a seat opposite him.

Sam, who was decidedly staring at the floor, shook his head. “You didn’t mess up anything, Y/N. You-” His voice broke and he visibly made an effort to speak again. “You tried harder than anyone should’ve had to… and God, this is going to kill me.”

“What is…?”

Sam braced himself. “I love you, Y/N. You have to _know_ that. I would gamble my life away without a second’s thought if it meant I could spend even some of it with you as _truly_ yours. To have you in my arms and not think about whether it’s the right thing to do. But I can’t gamble away Max’s life like that. He’s suffered so much already. I can’t have him start believing with all his heart that you’ll be his mother only for you to compromise. Worse, if a few months down the line, you decide you don’t want to do this, he’ll be shattered. I can’t do that to my boy.”

A single tear rolled down your cheek.

“I know you love him. I’d have to be blind not to see that. But I don’t know if you can love him without a doubt in your mind. I don’t want you to have to adjust into a mother’s role for him, if you aren’t ready. I know you- the guilt of it won’t let you breathe. And asking you to do that just so I could live out my fantasy of a perfect family… won’t be fair to you or Max.”

He flattened the papers in his hand on the table before you. One word glared out of it, strong and bold- Divorce. 

He took a ragged breath, then spoke in a fragile voice. “It’s still your decision to make- whether you want to sign these papers or not. If you do, we’ll walk out of your life this time. I haven’t committed beyond this semester to Stanford- another month. Take that time and decide what you really want.”

None of it was surprising you. Not his words, not his actions. Just like that tsunami, you had seen this coming the moment you didn’t respond to Max’s call. Still, the words weren’t sinking in. They were floating in the space between you and him.

“I promised to wait for you… I promised to give you all the time you needed,” he whispered. “That was a selfish promise. There’s nothing else for me now except that wait… but I can’t drag Max along.”

You mutely watched him draw out a pen from his pocket and start flipping through the pages, signing them as he went. The hard matt shadow of the pen scratched at the illusion like quality of the situation. The on and off gold glint pushed at the awareness further. You knew that pen. You knew that it was partly made up of obsidian and you knew the inscription on it- _It’s not time to worry yet - Atticus Finch_

Sam closed the papers shut and put the pen back in his pocket. You saw him swallow hard and raise one hand towards you in yearning, longing, before rigidly bringing it back to himself. He might have said something more, softly, eyes roving your face, but the words didn’t register, just the utter helplessness in his voice. With one last look, he got up from the chair and left.

The door banging on the frame made you flinch. 

_It’s not time to worry yet._

_It’s not time to worry yet._

_We’ll walk out of your life this time._

Drops were beginning to fall on the balcony outside, getting bigger, hitting faster, water dripping down on your carpet through the open window. You sat there, looking at the papers in front of you, not making a move to close the shutters.

The shrill ringing of your phone made you jump up once more. Mechanically, still in a daze, you answered the call.

“Hello. Is this Ms. Y/N Y/L/N?” 

A pause.

“Hello?”

You answered. “Yes, speaking.”

The voice said, more relaxed. “I’m Melanie Hawthorn from Acton Griswold. This is regarding your application for the position of a paralegal at our firm. We are very pleased to offer you the said position. Please get in touch with the HR to set up a meeting to discuss the terms of employment. An email with the details is being sent to you shortly. Will you be able to provide me with a tentative date?”

“Ms. Y/L/N?”

“Uh… anytime this week is okay.”

“Thank you. We’ll be in touch.”

*Click*

_It’s not time to worry yet._

_We’ll walk out of your life this time._

Next second, you grabbed the papers on the table and then you were running, not caring that you were dressed only in your shorts and camisole, not caring that you were bare foot or that it was raining outside- only that with each passing second, Sam was walking away from you.

How many times had you done this to him? Ran away as he watched you go. Once? Twice? Thrice? And yet, here you were unable to bear a single step he took in the other direction. For once in your life you weren’t running away, you were running _towards._

Taking the steps two at a time, you ran, almost tripping on the last one, as you passed the safety of the awning and into the thundering rain, your feet slipped on the shabby pavers of the meadow. From here, you could see Sam, slowly walking past the statue, his shoulders were slumped, feet dragging, soaked through and through.

Splashing water with each step, you closed the distance between the two of you. Sam turned around at the last minute. His face made you falter. That was the look of a man who was being burned alive at the stakes. He looked at you and broke down- not tears, but sobs wracking his body. Sam collapsed on the parapet of the statue. The only other time you had seen him lose it completely was in the hospital, telling his brother how he couldn’t face you and tell you that you could never be a mother again. Only you could bring him down on his knees like this- then and now.

Sam put his face in his hands, sobbing into them- lost and broken. 

You stood over him, motionless.

“I know why you did it.” The words fell off your lips like cracks of thunder. Maybe low and muted, but with the same devastating power. “I know why you _really_ drafted the papers.”

In your room upstairs, Sam’s defeated eyes had narrated a different story than his words. The words made sense, his reasoning perfectly logical- he wanted to protect his son from a woman who wouldn’t commit to being his mother. Except, you knew Sam. In the past few months, you had re-learned the workings of his soul. He would only pull something this drastic if he firmly believed it to be the only way to do right by _both_ Max and you. No matter if it was at his own expense. The divorce papers weren’t an ultimatum, or a deadline as they appeared to be. They were Sam’s way of offering you an _out_ from this situation with your dignity intact. He was shifting the blame of the failed marriage on himself, ready to face Max’s disappointment and anger, only so you wouldn’t have to live through the guilt of your choice. 

Max would see it in black and white. His father had decided to divorce you, just like his father had forbidden him from seeing you after the play-date. Max would yell and curse and be livid, but just like before, he would accept Sam’s decision and eventually forgive him for it. But if Max found out that you were the one unwilling to become his mother, he might never forgive you. With his last act, Sam was sparing you the pain of betraying Max, the pain of seeing the accusal in his eyes. How much exactly did Sam love you? Because this amount of love was unfathomable. It should’ve destroyed his mind! 

No one should have to make such a sheer sacrifice for being the good one. No one should have to suffer so much, so quietly. Especially not Sam.

“All these years that we’ve known each other, you’ve never let me thank you,” you said, only determination keeping your voice steady. “Not when you opened doors, or pulled chairs in restaurants, not when you held my hair as I threw up in the toilet at three in the morning because of sickness. You used to tell me we were married and it was your job to look after your wife. You said you weren’t doing me a favour and I stopped thanking you.”

Sam looked up finally, the rain making his tears invisible, but not his anguish.

“Then I saw you here… I can’t possibly tell you how it felt, seeing you in the class. Bumping into you in the corridor and knowing you still use the cologne I gifted, knowing you remembered the taste of my cookies. I was terrified of returning your coat back to you, scared that you’d outright banish me from your life. You brought me home when I was drunk, you pulled me out of the water when I could’ve died and held me through a night of torture. And you didn’t let me thank you for it. It wasn’t a favour, you said. It was your job.”

“But you did me one favour today, Sam Winchester,” you said, getting down on your knee on the coarse ground and holding up the drenched papers to him. “By giving me this, you did me the biggest favour of my life.”

Sam’s face was a mask of shock. You reached out and placed your hand against his cheek. “You showed me _exactly_ what I stood to lose.”

The rain was falling mercilessly now, hitting your skin like shards, running down your bare arms in rivulets. 

“Chirp wasn’t the name of our baby… it was the name we gave to our hopes and dreams of the future. I felt that dream _die_ inside me, Sam. I felt him go… and I swear if it wasn’t for you, I would have died that day with him. And that fear… of ever feeling like that again, it kept me under for so long. I was barely there… you kept more of me alive than I did, myself, through that cologne, the pictures… that pen! And you gave me the biggest joy I’ve ever known- that little boy.”

Silent tears glided down Sam’s eyes, still indistinct in the rain. He looked so vulnerable, as if the smallest of winds could shatter him.

“I was scared that I might lose him, Sam. Just like… our first baby. I couldn’t save him, and if anything ever happened to…” you shook your head, refusing to complete that thought. “I would die. Not even _you_ could bring me back then…” Taking in a deep breath you continued. “By handing me the divorce papers, you just reminded me that if you leave with him, I can never lay a claim on Max. I’ll lose him either way… I’ll lose my little Chirp all over again, and I can’t do that. He’s my boy.”

Taking his face in both your hands, you gave him a little shake. “Max is _my_ boy, you understand? He’s my little Chirp.”

“You… You’ll come back?” Sam spoke at last. The disbelief in his voice was painful.

Letting go off his face, you grabbed the wet papers in both your hands and tore them into four pieces. “I’ve been thinking I was jinxed all these years. I was so convinced that I never let your love sway me. But now I can see it’s not true. Because no one who’s jinxed would find someone like you! And I found you _twice._ I don’t need a damn month to figure this out. I know what I want. I want you! I want _us.”_

He shook his head, refusing to believe. Afraid to hope again.

You grabbed his face, forced him to look at you again. “I just got a call that I’ve been hired at Acton Griswold. You know what’s the first thing I wanted to do? The _only_ thing I wanted to do? Was to run to you! Just like seven years ago, barefoot in the rain. You make me feel eighteen again.” 

You looked him deep in his anguished eyes. “I love you, Sam Winchester. I don’t know how you can’t see that. It’s in the whisper of my every breath, the subtext to my every word. And we… we’re still a lot like _us,_ aren’t we? No, we’re better. We have Max now. We’re a family. Please… _Please_ believe me.”

Sam slipped on the ground next you, on his knees and pulled you to him, crushing your lips against his. His strong arms corded against your back, slipping and sliding against the wet silk of your tank top. It had turned transparent, clinging to your body. 

“I believe you,” he whispered desperately against your lips. “God, I believe you.”

You tangled your fingers in his wet hair, kissing him like your life depended on it, the worry, uncertainties, ebbing away from your body, a fierce, wild joy replacing it.

“Say it, say it again, please,” Sam begged in a coarse, broken voice, but it wasn’t hopeless anymore. It was ringing with the same ferocity that you felt.

“I love you, Sam. I love you so much.”

He made an animalistic sound and grabbed you by the hips, pulling you impossibly close, his lips fast and urgent against yours. 

Someone whistled loudly from behind.

Breaking off the kiss, you turned in the circle of Sam’s arms to see Kevin standing under the stilted awning of the building with a shit eating grin on his face. Others were slowly coming out from Pam’s apartment. 

You ignored him, threw your arms around Sam once more and began kissing him. He didn’t let go of you either… not until a shiver ripped through your body. As the high of the adrenalin came down, you suddenly began to feel the cold. Sam tightened his grip on you. 

“Oye! Get a room, you two!” Meg shouted. “C’mon, now! Keep it PG 13.”

“Don’t let go,” you pleaded.

“Not a chance,” said Sam. He put a hand under your knee and in one fluid motion hefted you into his arms, not breaking off the kiss.

More cat calls and hoots followed in the background. You could hear Jack howling with laughter, as Sam walked back towards the building carrying you.

“Oh, enough staring at those two,” Kevin said. “C’mon, get out there in the rain. You know the rules. Everyone who loses the bet has to get wet. That’s all of you bitches except Maddie and me. Out now!” 

He’d won the bet after all.

Pam blew a raspberry at him and climbed down the steps just as Sam passed her.

“Ah, the sweet, sweet taste of vindication,” Kevin gloated.

“Ah, the acrid, acrid stench of snobbery,” Meg hissed, following Pam. “Don’t go back to the flat anytime soon, Maddie.” 

You were hardly paying any attention, as Sam walked you up all the way to your flat. Once inside, you barely made it to the bathroom, before he had you pinned against the wall, lips still urgent, hands roving under your wet camisole. The sight of his closed eyes, the wetness of the rain and tears still clinging to his lashes was like a slow fire inside of you, burning low but not easing- the sweetest of torments. His fingers found the buckle of your bra and you felt him fumble with it, then hesitate.

You grabbed his hand behind your back and held it there. “Don’t stop. Please…”

“Y/N…” He groaned, the _need_ acute to the point of a primal hunger in his eyes. You could see yourself in his lust-blown, dark irises- barely recognising that girl or the hoarseness of her voice as she begged. “Please.”

That was all Sam needed as he grabbed the edge of your top and tore it apart into shreds. At the same time you pushed back his shirt, and then tugged at the hem of his t-shirt, pulling it over his head. Sam didn’t waste another minute before pulling you back into a kiss. He tasted like the wildness of the rain and the bitterness of coffee. 

You reached out behind you to unbuckle the bra and let it fall to the ground. Sam shuddered when you leaned into him next. skin touching to skin- wet and slick. “Y/N…”

He hoisted you on top of the bathroom counter. His hand slid down from your shoulders, over your breast, the thumb skating right across it and then further below into your shorts. You looked at him in the moment- a short second, an eternity- saying everything you ever wanted to without a word, listening to everything he wanted to say without a word. 

“I _need_ you…” you whispered, head rolling back, chest heaving with loud, ragged breaths, as his pants fell to the floor in a heap of wet denim. He hooked his thumb into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, and tugged them down your legs in one motion.

He put his forehead against yours, catching a breath, bracing himself. This was it. Moulding his lips against your, and biting down on the bottom lip, he pushed inside. 

A whimper left your lips, the corners of your eyes starting to sting again. He was as essential to your existence as breath itself was to living.

It was hard and fast and desperate- your teeth scraping against his ears and jaw, fingers digging into his back, and biting his shoulders to muffle the screams. You didn’t say anything coherent except wanting him to go harder and faster… and being ecstatic when he did. You lost count of the number of times you called out his name- in yearning, in commands, in pleas and in prayers till you were both a tangle of bodies on the floor of the bathroom, coming down from the high together. 

The rain splattered on the glass panes and you held on to him… letting go now would be a sin. You didn’t know how long you stayed there. Eventually Sam lifted you again, walking you into the shower. Still together, the shower barely lasted five minutes. Once on the bed, he would have let you rest, but you didn’t have it in you to be separated from him now. It would cause physical pain.

So, you drew him back upon yourself. This time it was slow… lazy, languid… relearning the patterns and shapes of each other. You memorised the exact curve of his lips, the hardness of his abs, running your fingers through the soft smattering of hair on his chest. 

As for Sam? He was treating you like a mirage that could disappear any given instance now. It broke your heart that the slight wildness in his eyes wasn’t giving way to his usual calmth. The vulnerability of his every move made you want to weld yourself to him, body and soul, so he would never feel this way again- as if he was living on borrowed luck, that anytime now this could be snatched away from him. 

You must have told him you loved him several times in the course of the hour, and yet, each time you said it, you felt his heart jump up in his chest under your fingers. Sam. _Your Sam._

It must’ve been hours later, when you heard the main door of the flat open and close. Your room was submerged in darkness, neither of you willing to move away first.

With a sigh, you raised yourself on your elbow to turn on the light, it bathed Sam in a warm glow. Bending down, you kissed the tip of his pointed nose, and then his eyelids, one by one.

“Max?” You said.

Sam cleared his throat before speaking. “He’s staying over at Jody’s.”

You frowned.

“I wasn’t expecting to be in any shape to look after him tonight,” he explained. “It would’ve been me and a bottle of scotch. Couldn’t have him see that.”

You kissed the hollow under his neck this time. “Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he promised.

“Don’t tell Max. I want to be the one to tell him.”

His galaxy eyes melted. “Of course. Whatever you want.”

“So you can stay tonight?” 

“If you want me to.”

It occurred to you that this wasn’t a one time thing. This was the rest of your life now. Sam was your husband. You had the right to keep him here with you for today and everyday. No more sneaking around, no more doubts. Just you, him and your little boy.

A surprised giggle bubbled up your lips and soon turned out into full laughter, tears rolling along the sides of your eyes.

“Something funny, Mrs. Winchester?” Sam asked, amused, his eyes soft.

You shook your head, burying your face in his chest. “Nothing. I love you.”

His heart skipped a beat again. You felt lips ghost over your hair. 

“I love you, too, Darling. More than life.”

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback would mean the world to me! Please let me know what you think of this story?


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